


The Relapse

by SchneiderAlvarez



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alvareider, Drug Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Relapsing, a little unexpected hint of Alvareider, but their relationship is too strong, i didn't know it was coming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-11-01 05:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17860952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchneiderAlvarez/pseuds/SchneiderAlvarez
Summary: "Schneider looked down at her and the pain in her expression hurt in ways he could never put into words. She couldn’t actually think that, could she? That he didn’t care about them? Didn’t she realize that after all these years he was never pretending to be part of the family. He wasn’t just killing some time because he was bored. He loved them, like blood.Well, not like his blood, because his blood was awful. And she had just met Exhibit A.How could she think that her family wasn’t important to him?"We don't get to see most of Schneider's relapse, including the first time he had another drink. This is meant to fill in the gaps, starting off with his argument with Penelope in 3.10 and ending after the finale.





	1. Daddy Issues

"You know, you can learn Spanish. You can eat dinner with us. You can _pretend_ you’re part of the family, but when it comes down to it you are still _The Man_ , and we’re just your tenants!"  
  
Schneider looked down at her and the pain in her expression hurt in ways he could never put into words. She couldn’t _actually_ think that, could she? That he didn’t care about them? Didn’t she realize that after all these years he was never _pretending_ to be part of the family. He wasn’t just killing some time because he was bored. He _loved_ them, like blood.

Well, not like _his_ blood, because his blood was awful. And she had just met Exhibit A.

How could she think that her family wasn’t important to him? "Come on, Penelope, that’s not at all-"  
  
"You know what? Congratulations. You are your father's son. Get out." Penelope turned away from him, her hand covering her face as she struggled to keep it together. Schneider had seen her do that a lot, but never because of him. Usually he was the one who would sit down beside her and help her work through whatever was causing her all this distress. But when he was the one causing that distress? He didn’t know what to do.

So he followed his instincts, and did what he would normally do. He took a few steps toward her, trying to gather his thoughts into a complete sentence. "Penelope…" was all he was able to get out before she stopped him, again.  
  
"No, I mean it, please. Get out." Penelope had yelled at him before. She had been bossy before. When she had gone off her meds she was downright _mean_ to him. But none of those instances compared to this. Her voice was a mixture of anger and disappointment. As much as he wanted to stay and talk this out with her, he knew no good could come from it. She didn’t want him here. Not now… Maybe not at all.  
  
Without another word, Schneider did as he was told. He took one last look at her before closing the door slowly behind him for what he feared deep down would be the last time.  
  


* * *

The walk up to his apartment had never felt longer. It was a trip he made several times every day, and going up was _always_ worse. But especially today. Especially right now.  
  
He had really screwed it up this time. Penelope was more than just angry with him, she was hurt. He hurt her, and he felt terrible about it. He hadn’t realized how much this one decision would effect them. He didn't know what it was like to have to worry about money. In his entire adult life he had never been in a position where one man could rip his life out from under him. He didn't have to worry about whether or not he would be able to afford rent next month. The only thing that had ever stood in the way of stability and happiness for him was himself.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, he made it to his door. He stared at it for a few minutes, contemplating what he was going to do next.  
  
First things first, he needed to go into his apartment. He needed to get out of this stupid suit, and take the gel out of his hair so that he felt a little bit like himself again. He needed to convince his dad to go to his hotel so that he could think a little clearer. And then – most importantly –  he needed to call his sponsor. Because he could _really_ use a drink right now.

Satisfied with his plan, he eventually managed to turn the handle and walk in. His father was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, texting on his phone with one hand and holding a glass in the other. On the table was the bottle of _Don Julio Royale_ that he had brought Schneider as a gift. He glanced up as Schneider entered the room, a pompous grin plastered on his face. "Hey there, son. I'm just waiting on a call about the appraisal on the building."  
  
"I see you're enjoying my present." Schneider closed the door behind him and took off his jacket.  
  
His father chuckled, looking back down at his phone. "Yeah, well, it's very expensive. If you aren't going to enjoy it, someone should."  
  
"I guess so."  
  
Schneider sat down beside the man, and couldn't help but glance at the now opened bottle of tequila. It had been a long time since any booze had seen the inside of his apartment. He knew he needed to get both the bottle, and his father, out of there as soon as possible. "Look, Dad..."  
  
"I gotta say, son," His father interrupted him. His whole life his father never really listened to him. No matter what Schneider was talking about, as soon as Father thought of something more interesting to him he would just start talking. He was never sure if it was just natural to him – it just came with being an asshole – or if he was doing it on purpose just to make his son feel like shit. Regardless, it worked. He slid his phone into his pocket and placed his glass on the coffee table. "When I sent you to America, I didn't have much hope for you. And for a while there you seemed to be proving me right.” Schneider clasped his hands together, looking down at the floor beneath him. “But finally, after all these years... you've shown me that you’re capable of being the man I always wanted you to be. And you should be proud of that."

The words were less comforting than before. When his father told him he was proud of him earlier, he had felt this strange warmth inside him. It was unfamiliar, but welcomed. He had spent so many years trying to impress his father, and so many years drinking when he couldn't. It felt like he had actually accomplished something.  
  
But now, upon further reflection, the feeling wasn't as foreign as he had first thought. Feeling proud and loved wasn't new to him – it was just the person on the other end that was new. He was thrilled when his father called him Son, but he realized now that he was even prouder when Lydia put his eight year chip in the Alvarez Museum. Hell, he felt that same love and warmth when Lydia complimented his Spanish. Or when Penelope thanked him for his advice. Or when Alex jumped into his arms after a particular great game.  
  
So yes, he had been searching for acceptance his whole life. But that moment with his dad wasn't him finally finding it. He had already found it with the Alvarez's. And by the look on Pen's face, he may have screwed that up for good.  
  
He was still lost in thought when his father's phone went off. He looked down at his screen and grinned. "Oh I definitely have to take this. I'll be right back, Goldie." He rose from the couch and walked into the back room. Schneider watched him go, but once he turned the corner his gaze wandered to the barely touched glass of tequila on the table. Incredibly expensive tequila. The kind of tequila he kept his apartment stocked with constantly back in the day. Would one glass really be that bad? He could handle it, couldn't he?  
  
No. He couldn't handle it. No addict could, that's kind of the whole point. His mind drifted back to the week before Elena's _quinces_ , when Pen had kicked Victor out of her apartment – and into Schneider's – for making that very same mistake. If Victor had gotten his shit together earlier, when Penelope told him to, the two of them would probably be together right now. But Victor couldn't stop, and Pen knew better than to put up with that shit. And that was her _husband_. There was no way she would put up with her friend slipping back. Her _landlord_ , for Christ's sake.  
  
But God, he could really use a drink right now.

He remembered what he needed to do. Standing up, he grabbed the bottle and placed it back into it’s ‘house.’ Needing it out of his line of sight, but not wanting to offend his father by hiding it away, he left it on console against the wall. Now he needed to pour the glass out in the sink.  
  
He wondered briefly if he should call his sponsor. But with his father in the other room it would be too embarrassing. He would have to handle it himself.  
  
It's not like he hasn't touched alcohol in the last eight years. The Alvarez's drank at every party they held – and they drank a lot. Well, Lydia did at least. They also threw a lot of parties. When clean up time came he never had any problem grabbing half full glasses of rum and wine from around the living room. But he was surrounded by friends and family, then. It was easier.  
  
He picked up the glass and stared down at it. He gently swirled the amber-colored liquid around, watching it longingly. One drink really wouldn't hurt. He had been through a tough day – he kind if deserved it.  
  
Besides, if he really was his father's son, he should be able to take it. He should be able to drink one glass – just one – and not spiral out of control.  
  
He could hear his dad’s faint laughter from another room. His father didn't care about the people in this building. He didn't care about how the tenants Schneider had come to care for over the past two decades would be affected. He just wanted to make a bit of extra money. Was that really the man Schneider aspired to be? Sure, he'd always been wealthy. And a bit oblivious to the real world. But was he really going to be so downright _greedy_?  
  
Penelope was right. Of course she was right. He was making a huge mistake. One that he would no doubt regret. But, even worse than that, he knew he didn't have the guts to do anything about it. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to muster up the courage to tell his father _no_. His dad didn't exactly welcome disparagement.  
  
Which he knew was stupid because Schneider was a 40 year old man. His father shouldn't be able to control him like that. But that didn’t change the fact that he definitely, definitely could.

If he couldn’t stand up to his father, he would have to go along with his plan to turn the building into condos. If he went along with the plan, all the tenants he had befriended over the years would end up having to leave, being replaced with privileged, rich assholes just like himself. The Alvarez's would leave as well, and they would never forgive him for that. And he would never forgive himself.  
  
As much as they had accepted him before, Pen's words echoed in his mind. He could insert himself into their lives as much as he wanted. He could invite himself to dinner, take Alex to games, make fun of Elena's Spanish... But he wasn't part of the family. Not really. The only family he had was currently on the phone discussing what to do with all the money they were about to make at the expense of everyone Schneider loved. Him, and five mother’s who call him once a year on Christmas.  
  
Now _that_ was something worth drinking to.  
  
After eight years of sobriety, the tequila went down surprisingly smooth, but also hit harder than he was expecting. Back in the day he could out drink just about anybody. But after so many years being out of practice, he could feel the effects just as strongly as he could back when he was just getting started. His face was a little hot, but in a good way. It was a welcoming taste. He brought the glass with him into his bedroom, unloosening his tie as he went.  
  
He draped the tie over a chair and sat down in bed. He took the last swig of the drink and let the empty glass fall from his grasp and onto the mattress. He stared at himself in the mirror beside his bed. The man staring back still looked like him. He still looked like Sober Him. But it didn’t feel like Him.

A lot of emotions were hitting him one after another, and it was hard to process them all at once.  
  
He felt great. Better than he had in years. Why had he kept this from himself for so long? Why had he denied himself something that made him feel so good?  
  
He also felt awful. He had really fucked up now. Eight years of his life just went down the drain. It's not like he had anything else to show for that time. Being sober was literally the only thing he had accomplished. It was all he had, and now it was over.  
  
He also felt like having another glass. There was a whole bottle left in the living room. If his father had some too, it wouldn't really be all that much. Splitting a bottle wasn't spiraling, was it?  
  
He also knew he should go downstairs and apologize to Penelope. Beg her to forgive him. But she wouldn't accept a half-assed apology. She was a strong woman, and she didn't need him to show up at her door with alcohol on his breath, telling her he was sorry. Not unless he had something to show for it.  
  
But he still wasn't going against his dad. This drink had made him feel good, but not _that_ good. So, really, things were all the same. Except now he had had a drink. _Shit_.

He sat by himself for a while, trying to keep track of all the thoughts running through his mind. He stood up a few times with the intention to pour himself another drink, but always sat himself back down before he even made it through his bedroom door. He could still hear his father’s muffled voice through the wall. It reminded him of living at home when he was a kid. Which, in turn, reminded him of why he started drinking at 13 in the first place.

* * *

He had no idea how much time had passed since he secluded himself in there when he heard a knock on his front door. Which was... bad? Surprising? He didn't really know because he didn't have time to figure it out before he was in the living room, answering it.

Of course, it was Penelope.  
  
“Hey."  
  
"Hey, come on in." He gestured for her to walk into his apartment.

She wandered over to the couch but didn't sit down. Her face was a little pale, and her eyes were focused. She didn’t look as upset as she had back up in her apartment, but the effects of their argument were still lingering on her features. "Sorry I kicked you out before. But it's nice to know that you are actually capable of leaving my apartment when asked."  
  
At any other time, Schneider would have laughed at that. But there was too much going on in his head right now. "I’m so sorry, Pen, I don't know what to say." It was true. He felt like he was at a loss for words, which was a strange experience for him, to say the least.  
  
"No, I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.” When she smiled up at him, her eyes crinkled just slightly. “This is your building. And it is a good business decision. And Hell, if the shoe was on the other foot I'd’ve kicked your ass out, too."  
  
He smiled, but something didn't feel right. He should be happy that she was apologizing. She was giving him the O.K. to sell the building, despite the consequences she would be left to deal with. It was really a perfect solution. If she wasn't going to be mad at him, he wouldn't have to stand up to his father. For the first time in his life, both of them would be on his side. Isn’t that what he wanted?  
  
He suddenly felt an enormous wave of guilt wash over him. He never should have had that drink. He had overreacted, big time. Penelope was angry – as she had every right to be. But, being Penelope, he should have known that she wasn’t going to let that sever the tie between them. She wasn’t going to hold that above him. She just… accepted his decision, and forgave him for making it. Like real family does.

“Thanks.” He sat down on the couch, clasping his hands together. He needed to tell Penelope about the drink. Nothing good could be gained from lying to her. Penelope had come to him in her darkest moments, and he should be able to do the same.

Yet the thought of her being once again disappointed in him was a lot to bear. The two of them hadn’t been close the last time he relapsed. Lydia may have seen him at rock bottom, but Penelope only really knew him as sober. It was eight years ago, and even though she was aware of his problem, it wasn’t the same as living through it.

His own family couldn’t deal with him during his relapses. His father may have paid for his rehab visits, but he never came down to see him. His grandparents lived in Pasadena, but they couldn’t have been bothered to make the drive to LA. Was Penelope really ready to see this other side of him? Was she even willing to?  
  
Penelope settled down beside him, so close that her leg pressed against his. The physical touch helped to ground him, and he focused his thoughts back to the present. "I cant expect you to push your father away because of us. I get it, family is everything. No one knows that more than me." She leaned in closer, reassuring him, “The Alvarez’s are gonna be okay. And so are we.”

Schneider let out a small sigh of relief. “Great.” Penelope took his hand in her own. Her skin was soft to the touch, and gave him something to hold onto. "But I gotta say… I don't think you should try so hard to become the man your father wants you to be. Because I like the man you are just fine."  
  
Schneider was overwhelmed by the bittersweet moment. Once again he was reminded how loyal the Alvarez's truly were. How kind Penelope truly was. He had been waiting his whole life for someone to tell him it was okay to be exactly who he was. Not that he had potential to be a better man, or that he was _capable_ of being more. But that he was already more.  
  
If only he had waited to hear that before that tequila.  
  
He pulled her into a tight embrace, which she reciprocated fully. He closed his eyes and tried to appreciate this moment in it’s entirety. He felt like he could have stayed that way forever: the two of them on his couch, arms locked around each other. He had always complimented Lydia's hugs because he knew she would appreciate it. But really, all the Alvarez's were perfect at it. They knew how to make you feel loved.

"What, Mar-a-lago? Won't you be busy?" A pause, followed by a laugh. "Ha ha… I'm kidding. Okay, see ya." His father hung up the phone, spinning around on his heal to face his son. "Just got an appraisal on the units… it was even higher than I thought it would be-!"  
  
“Actually, Father, I've decided I'm not going to take the building condo." He spit out the words as quickly as he could without slurring them all together. He needed to get them out before he chickened out.  
  
"What?" His father and Penelope reacted in unison.

“I really like everything the way it is.”

His father pushed past Penelope, who quickly moved so he could stand directly in front of his son. "You're screwing up the one thing you've done right in the last 20 years?"  
  
Schneider couldn't help but think that the one good thing he had done the last 20 years was ruined as soon as he took that drink, but now was not the time to bring that up. "Well, this building is full of people I care about, and who care about me. And I don't want to screw that up." He scanned his father’s face for any signs of understanding and found nothing. “Plus, I have enough money.”

“Enough money? I sent you to school in America, so you could forget that polite Canadian crap and learn some decent values.”

Schneider stood his ground. “My mind is made up.”

“This is incredible! I’ve given you everything and you’ve been a constant disappointment! I put you through rehab three times!”

“If you were a better father, you’d know you put me through rehab _five_ times!” Schneider kept his eyes focused on his father so that he didn’t have to look at Penelope's reaction to all of this. “And you haven’t given me everything. I don’t remember you _ever_ , once, saying you loved me.”

“Oh, really?” His father shook his head in disbelief. “So, this is about a little boy who’s sad because Daddy never said ‘I love you?’ Grow up, Goldie. You know what, I’m officially done trying with you.”  
  
His father had never tried with him. He had _never_ given him a chance. He could tell himself that he tried to be a good father if he wanted to, but Schneider knew better. And finally, he was ready to give up on trying to be a good son. "Then we have something in common. Now get out of my building."  
  
His father's eyes went wide, his mouth agape. It was the look of a man who had never been told _no_ in his life, and certainly not by his own son. "Gladly."  
  
He walked past Schneider, letting the door slam shut behind him.  
  
Schneider stood, completely frozen. His dad was offended, angry even. But Penelope and the Alvarez's were going to be safe. His heart was pounding against his chest. The heat in his face from before had been intensified by the adrenaline running through him. If he was being completely honest, standing up to his father had been freaking _amazing_. But at the same time, he thought be might throw up.  
  
He couldn't help but think that it only took _one_ drink to give him the courage he needed to throw his dad out. Just one glass and he was able to do what was right for Penelope. He was able to so something _good._ How often could he actually say that?  
  
He hadn't noticed the silence until Penelope loudly broke it. "That was _freaking amazing_! Where did that come from?" She brought her hands from her temple to out in front of her, just like Alex always did when he was surprised. Now he knew where he got that from.  
  
Penelope’s face was beaming, and her smile was – for lack of a better word – intoxicating. Despite his mixed feelings about all that had happened, he knew he had done a good thing. It was all worth it to see her face lit up like that. "Thanks, it felt amazing."  
  
She outstretched her arms toward Schneider. "Oh my God, you didn’t have to do that, but thank you! Really… you didn’t have to.”  
  
Schneider shrugged, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. "Yeah, I did..." Penelope met his eyes. "Family’s everything."  
  
Looking like she might burst out into tears right then and there, she quickly wrapped him in a hug. When she pulled away she had to wipe a few tears away from her eyes. "Hey, you wanna come to dinner? You can invite Avery! And I’ll even get out the good cookies that _Mami_ and Alex hide in the oatmeal tin!”  
  
"Thanks! Yeah, I'll be right down. Just, uh, I just need a minute.”

“Okay!” Penelope clapped her hands together, literally jumping up and down with excitement. “Oh my God! We’re staying! But wait, you’re not going to raise the rent, right?” Stopping herself, she quickly backpedaled. “You know what, we’re going to talk about that later.”

As she left, singing and dancing the whole way out the door, Schneider felt an itch he hadn’t felt in a long time. The all too familiar feeling that accompanied every relapse.

Penelope ran into Elena on the way out, and the two exchanged words, but he wasn’t really paying attention at that point. All he could think about was getting her out of the apartment. As soon as the door was closed, he checked out the peep hole to ensure she had really left, and then locked the door.

Schneider didn't think much as he grabbed the bottle of tequila and brought it back over to the coffee table. For a few moments he was totally on auto pilot. He pulled it out of the box and placed it directly in front of him. He sat on the couch, leaning forward, his hands covering his face.

Part of him was screaming at him to control himself. Don't have that drink. Call Nick. Call Penelope back up. Tell _somebody_ that you've slipped.

Part of him was edging him on. Have another glass. Have the whole bottle. Do what you've been dying to do for the last eight years. Live a little.

Before he even realized what he was doing, the bottle was in his hands. He traced his fingers up the side until they rested on the lid.

_Don’t do it._

He slowly opened it, bringing the bottle to his lips. The smell of alcohol was strong and all too overwhelming.

_This is a huge mistake._

He tipped back the bottle and drank.

And it felt really good. He had made the right decision.

* * *

He had finished about a third of the bottle before he stopped, scolding himself. This was a _terrible_ decision. He was supposed to be having dinner with the Alvarez's.

He hid the tequila away in a cabinet and ran to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. It was hard to look himself in the eye.

He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face. He gargled some mouth wash, spit it out, and gargled some more. He did that several times before he was sure he tasted no traces of alcohol on his tongue.

He rushed downstairs but stopped when he got to the front door. He stared at it for a few moments, silently asking himself _am I really going to do this?_

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this apartment was his happy place. If there was ever a time where he desperately needed to be distracted and happy, it was now.

Without knocking he entered the apartment and saw Penelope and Lydia in the kitchen. Penelope glanced up at him as he did, smiling.

“What’s for dinner, Boo?”

“ _Moros y Cristianos_ ,” Penelope answered.

“I wasn’t talking to _you_ ,” Schneider crossed the living room into the kitchen. “I was talking to you mother.” He slid one hand around Lydia, who beamed up at him.

She patted him on the arm. “Oh, Schneider, you are going to love it.”

“Well as long as you’re the one making it, I’m sure I will!”

Penelope rolled her eyes and gestured to the cabinet. “Grab the oatmeal tin and put the cookies on the table, will you?”

Lydia gasped, dropping the wooden spoon she was holding on the floor. “How do you know about that?”

Schneider smiled to himself. As he listened to the mother and daughter argue, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to tell Penelope about his slip. No matter how understanding she was, things would be different if he wasn’t sober. He didn’t want different – he wanted _this_. Exactly the way it is.

He wasn’t about to put Dinner at the Alvarez’s in jeopardy. Or their open-door policy. Or their trust in him. He couldn’t. He didn’t know what he would do without them.

“Schneider, are you listening to me?”

Penelope snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Of course, I am!  And yes, I also thought your hair was looking a little flat today. I can call my hairdresser. He makes house calls.”

“ _Que funny_. Go tell Elena and Alex to come set the table for dinner.”

He might have had a few drinks in his system, but they couldn’t tell. So why did they ever have to know? He could manage this all on his own, and Penelope would never know the difference.

It was a good plan, lying. Of course, that’s what all alcoholics think, isn’t it?

But in this case, he was right. He was sure about that.

Schneider brought his hand up to his head in a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Sorry, ma’am- I mean miss. I mean lady?” He hurried off to grab the kids, all the while content that everything was going to be alright. As long as he was here.


	2. Mommy Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider is determined to keep his drinking under control without having to cut himself off completely, again. But as his careful planning begins to fall apart, he distracts himself with the Alvarez's, who are more than happy to have him. Especially Lydia, who has been there for him before. 
> 
> "'Eh, but don’t you worry about Lupita, querido. I will protect you.' Lydia held her hands out in a fighting position, and both of them laughed.
> 
> It was a joke, yes, but there was a hint of truth to it. Sitting at this table with Lydia, Schneider felt the rest of his worries wash away. Maybe it was only temporary, but he felt safe with her, and with her family. Upstairs there were five beers and half a bottle of Bailey’s – yes, he was keeping track – waiting for him. Taunting him. But for right now he was able to push that to the back of his mind. The itch wasn’t completely gone… but it was subdued."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me longer than I wanted to write this, but I'm happy with what I came up with. I didn't expect this chapter to be so Lydia heavy, but once I realized it, I knew that it was an important relationship for Schneider to explore. So... enjoy!

The next week was chaos in Schneider's apartment. Internally he was grateful that there were not any Penelope-Catastrophes™ that would have sent her to his front door at random hours in the night, because she definitely would have been tipped off to his mental state pretty quickly.

The whole apartment was a wreck. There were empty bottles lingering around the couch. Clothes and sheets laid in crumbled piles throughout the bedroom and living room. He had broken a snow globe at some point, and it was still laying in a pool of shattered glass and glycerin somewhere.

Schneider himself was laying on the couch, a half-empty bottle of vodka nestled between his abdomen and arm. He was dressed in sweatpants and an untied robe, and his glasses laid on the ground by his feet. His head was throbbing like nobody’s business, and even as drunk as he was, he had to admit that his self-regulation plan had not really panned out.  
  
He had figured he could have one drink a day without any adverse side effects. He knew he had to be careful to keep himself from spiraling, but why did it have to be all or nothing? If he could prove to himself he could handle a drink now and again, he wouldn’t _have_ to stay sober all the time.  
  
The plan, however, didn’t even last for a full day.

* * *

After dinner the day of Father's visit, he said goodnight pretty early, citing his long and arduous day. Everyone understood, and no one found it particularly strange. When he left, however, instead of going upstairs to the fifth floor to sleep it off, he went downstairs and drove himself to the liquor store.  
  
It was amazing how after eight years he still knew the layout of the aisles perfectly. Apparently, they don't bother rearranging liquor stores very often, and it was the kind of information his brain just couldn't let go of.  
  
He bought a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream and a six pack of beer. He figured this would last him well over a week, and it would be easy to track just his much he had.  
  
That night he had a beer before settling into bed.  
  
The next morning he had some Irish Cream in his coffee, telling himself that was it for the day. But after helping Mrs. Carter in 305 carry a car full of groceries up three flights of stairs, he figured he needed a caffeine boost. And if he was going to have the coffee, he might as well add in the Cream. He had a couple of cups.  
  
That night he couldn't sleep. He wasn't even drunk, but he could still feel the booze in his system as he laid in bed. He spent hours staring up at the ceiling before he finally gave up and surrendered to insomnia.  
  
Eventually he crawled out of bed and before he knew it he ended up in the Alvarez living room. It was four in the morning, and no one was awake. He was used to letting himself in, but it felt stranger when there was no one around to see him do it. It seemed like more of an invasion of privacy at night.  
  
But he didn't have any place else to go, so he stayed.  
  
By the time Lydia woke up, he had already made about two dozen waffles shaped like BB8. He had bought the Star Wars branded waffle maker with the intention of giving it to Elena on her birthday, but changed his mind when Alex told him she would probably find a kitchen appliance a misogynistic gift - no matter how nerdy it was.

“Schneider, how long have you been in my kitchen?”

He looked down at the several stacks of waffles. “Uh… not long.”

Lydia may have been inclined to ask more questions, but her attention suddenly turned to the waffles themselves. “Why are they shaped like headless _muñecos de nieve_?”

It took Schneider a couple of seconds to translate that in his head. “Snowmen? No, they’re droids! Robots! From Star Wars!”

“Oh, yes. Elena explained those to me,” Lydia nodded with a sly grin on her face. “Is this what _Americanos_ eat for _desayuno?”_

“It's certainly what Canadians eat!” Schneider was happy to move the conversation away from his unexplained presence and onto his carb-heavy breakfast choices. “Why don’t you make some _café Cubano_ and eat these with me. I brought real Canadian maple syrup. You’re gonna love it.”

Lydia made an unimpressed face and shook her head. “You are a strange one, Schneider.” Then, patting him on the back, she added, “That’s why I like you.” 

Lydia did in fact make some coffee, and the two of them chowed down at the breakfast table. Despite her hesitations, Lydia seemed to enjoy the meal. “ _Gracias_ for cooking, Schneider. But I must ask, why are you here so early? I have never seen you here before I woke up.”

“Oh, well, I, uh…” Schneider stuttered, looking down at his plate. “I just… had plans to go on a morning hike with Avery to watch the sunrise. You gotta leave for those, like, ridiculously early. But she, uh, cancelled last minute. And… here I am.” It almost disturbed him how easily he churned out that lie. And how believable it was.

“Ah, _entiendo_. I’m sorry, Schneider. You wanted to spend time with your girlfriend, and instead you are here.”

“It’s okay, I am very happy eating breakfast with you.”

Lydia reached over across the table and took one of his hands into her own. “Then it is settled. I will go hiking with you, instead.”

Schneider couldn’t help the ear-to-ear grin that made its way to his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, _Abuelita_. I’m pretty sure Pen would kill me if she found out I took her 70-something year old mother into San Gabriel.”

“70-something? Let’s not be rude about it, Schneider!” Lydia leaned backwards. “Eh, but don’t you worry about Lupita, _querido_. I will protect you.” She held her hands out in a fighting position, and both of them laughed.

It was a joke, yes, but there was a hint of truth to it. Sitting at this table with Lydia, Schneider felt the rest of his worries wash away. Maybe it was only temporary, but he felt safe with her, and with her family. Upstairs there were five beers and half a bottle of Bailey’s – yes, he was keeping track – waiting for him. Taunting him. But for right now he was able to push that to the back of his mind. The itch wasn’t completely gone… but it was subdued.

Schneider never had this as a kid. He never sat and ate breakfast with his mother – or any of his mothers, for that matter. He never had anyone to sit with and talk to about his day, or about his girlfriend. He never had an adult who would hold his hand or push his hair back and tell him, _Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you_.

Growing up he watched a lot of his friends and classmates take their parents for granted. They had mothers and fathers who doted on them, loved them, and protected them. Yet they always said their parents were too pushy or too overprotective. He couldn’t help but feel jealous.

But for whatever reason, one day Lydia decided to take time out of her day to bring _sopa de polla_ to him at the rehab center, despite barely knowing him. With that one act of kindness she had shown more love and compassion toward him than he had received his whole childhood.

He remembered that day well. He had spent the couple of days prior feeling sorry for himself. He felt like the whole world had turned against him, and he was just destined to fail. What was the point at getting sober just to relapse all over again? What was the point of trying to put his life together when it was inevitably going to fall apart again? He had been fighting this losing battle for most of his life, now, and he had nothing to show for it. No real job, no girlfriend, no family, and now no sobriety.

But then Lydia came, and changed his whole line of thinking. She gave him something to hold on to; something to look forward to. She gave him hope.

He was worried that when he got out of rehab, things would go back to how they were before her visit. That he would see her when something needed fixing in the apartment, and she would be sweet with him, and that would be it. He was worried that her gesture had been a random act of kindness by a religious woman, rather than proof that someone actually believed in him.

But when he finally got out, and made it to her door, she welcomed him in with open arms, and a full kitchen. And she continued to for years to come.

Perhaps, he thought, if anyone was going to be understanding about his ‘slip,’ it would be Lydia. Unlike Penelope, she had seen him at his worst before. It didn’t get any worse than that rehab center. He didn’t like lying about his drinking, he just didn’t know what else to do. It was a survival technique. But maybe he didn’t have to lie to Lydia. Maybe he could really be honest with her.

“Lydia,” Schneider cleared his throat. He could feel his heart begin to race beneath his chest. “I, uh… I should tell you…”

“Mornin’ _Abuelita_. Mornin’ Schneider.” Elena’s groggy voice interrupted him. He turned around to see her and Alex – who simply waved at him while yawning – walking down the hallway and into the kitchen. They were both dressed in their school uniforms. Elena stared quizzically at the stack of waffles. “Are these… BB8?”

“ _¡Sí!_ It is the future, Elena! We shall eat _el robots_!” Lydia raised her arms dramatically.

“That is _so cool_!” Elena exclaimed. “Is this yours, Schneider?”

Schneider glared at Alex, who threw his hands back. “Uh, yeah, I brought it from my apartment. I figured you’d like it.”

The kids grabbed a couple waffles and syrup, sitting down at the table to enjoy their breakfast. Schneider knew his moment with Lydia was gone. But part of him was glad it was. It was stupid to bring it up to her now. It was better if she didn’t know. Besides, he was glad for the kid’s company as well.

Eventually Penelope joined them, and at that point Schneider’s presence was no longer all that odd. He had made it through the morning, without a drink, and without any suspicions from the Alvarez’s. He called that a success.

* * *

But over the next half hour, the family around him dispersed. The kids went to school, Pen went to work. Lydia stuck around a little longer, dancing around the house as she cleaned up from breakfast, but eventually she left to take care of some errands.

Schneider considered going with her, but he had already taken up enough of her time, so he ended up back in his apartment.

He was still due his daily drink, not that he had followed the plan thus far. But he had good reasons yesterday, and today was different. Today he was going to have just one.

He grabbed a beer and settled into bed with his laptop, hoping to distract himself from the impending loneliness. It wasn’t until he came across an article about a local art exhibit that he realized he should see Avery.

Having a real girlfriend was still new to him, and he wasn’t used to it. That wasn’t to say he didn’t really like having her around, because he did. But being a boyfriend was a new experience, and one he didn’t want to screw up, especially by drinking.

Avery was a teacher, so she was going to be busy for most of the day, but he knew for a fact that she had lunch at noon. He thought he’d surprise her and take her out.

He finished his beer, showered, and thoroughly brushed his teeth. After trying on three or four different outfits, he settled on one he liked and was happy to see that he actually looked presentable. He didn’t look like the disaster he was the last time he slipped. He looked like he had his shit together.

He got to Avery’s school a tad too early – about an hour and a half. He waited in his Range Rover impatiently, his foot rhythmically tapping the floorboards. He wrapped his arms around his waist, instinctively hugging himself. He let the radio play whatever it wanted because he was only paying attention to the beat.

He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this. If he was really doing okay, if the drinks weren’t overwhelming him, he wouldn’t feel this way. He knew it was a bad sign. And yet…

At 11:55am, Schneider made his way to her classroom. He waited outside for her, smiling kindly at the kids that rushed by. Once Avery came out, followed by 18 kindergarteners, her face lit up. She gave him a peck on the cheek and told him to wait until she could get her kids to their music class.

He took her to a new fancy French place, _Nom Drôle de Restaurant_ a few blocks away from the school. He smiled widely as he listened to her chatter about her day. Schneider had seen Avery in her most expensive gown and full make up, and he had seen her with no clothes on at all, but he knew for certain that she never looked more beautiful than when she was talking about her work. He secretly wished deep down that he had something that he was as passionate about as she was about teaching.

Well, he wished he had something other than drinking.

When the waiter took their order, he couldn’t help but feel penitent that she ordered a water instead of wine. She could say it was because she was going back to work, but she wasn’t going back for an hour and he knew if she was with anyone else she would have just one glass. But ever since he had told her about his problem, she hadn’t drunk in his presence.

Internally he had always appreciated that the Alvarez’s weren’t afraid to drink around him. At first, they would always run it by him and make sure it was okay, but eventually they just assumed he didn’t mind. It wasn’t a big deal, but it showed him that they trusted him, that they had faith in his ability to stay sober.

As it turns out, they were wrong. But he appreciated the sentiment, anyway.

“So, Schneider, what have you been up to?” Avery eventually ran out of things to say and turned the conversation back to him. “I haven’t seen you since I met your father.”

Schneider brought his hands below the table, clasping them together awkwardly. “Oh, you know, my usual stuff. I’ve been getting really into Spoon Carving, which is a lot more fun than it sounds.”

Avery laughed, but it seemed a little forced. He could tell she had something on her mind. “I hope you’re going to make me a special spoon, soon.”

“Of course!”

Avery took a sip of her water. “When you’re not making spoons, I imagine you’re hanging out downstairs?” Her voice was a little bit higher than usual, but she was clearly trying to hide it. Sometimes Avery would get a little weird when they talked about the Alvarez’s, and Schneider wasn’t sure why. They seemed to get along great! It was really important to him that his girlfriend got along with them, since they were the only real family he had. He hoped that he was seeing things that weren’t really there, which wouldn’t be too unusual for him.

“Yeah, I usually do,” he laughed, hoping to bring things back to normal. “I think they’d like to have you over for dinner sometime soon. I know I do.” He reached his hand out across the table, and Avery took it, smiling.

“That’s so nice of them. I’d love to. But I was actually kind of hoping we could have dinner sometime soon, just the two of us.”

“Sure, we can go out anytime!”

“Well, I meant like at your apartment. We never really spend time together at your place unless we’re, well, you know…” She waggled her eyebrows a bit. “But we can do that too! Afterwards, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah! Quality time, at my apartment. That’s a great idea. Let’s do it tomorrow night!”

“Perfect.”

The rest of the meal went by quickly, and Avery loved the food. Schneider made sure to mark this one down in his phone as a good date option before they left. He had a quite extensive list of restaurants to take girlfriends, out-of-town relatives, and friends to, mostly because he had a bit of an odd taste for food. He rarely cooked at home, and when he did it was just for himself. He had tried cooking for the Alvarez’s a few times, but it was never met with much enthusiasm.

But at least with them he knew it didn’t really matter. He didn’t want to disappoint Avery with his bad cooking. She had cooked for him just once before, but she was _amazing_ at it. He needed to up his game.

There was, at least, one person he knew would be willing to help with that.

After he dropped her off, the longing for a drink became almost unbearable. She had been a nice distraction, but he was left with just him and his thoughts yet again. He hadn’t had his daily drink yet, and he figured he had earned it.

He made it home and quickly went to the fridge for a beer. He felt somewhat satisfied by finishing it, but something was missing. The warm, almost cheerful feeling that he had gotten the last couple of days of drinking didn’t seem to be coming. He didn’t really feel anything, and that wasn’t what he wanted at all.

So, to compensate, he had another. And by the third one, the feeling was back. He finally felt content; the itch had subsided.

* * *

After a little mouthwash and cologne, he headed downstairs and hoped that Lydia would be home so she could teach him a new recipe for Avery. The door was locked, but that wasn’t anything his key couldn’t fix.

Thankfully Lydia was home, along with Alex, Elena, and Syd.

All three of them were huddled around the TV with PlayStation controllers in their hands. They all muttered a weak “Hey, Schneider,” as he entered, despite none of them turning to look at him.

“Hey! You guys having fun?”

“Shh!” Elena shushed him, and he knew better than to interrupt their game again.

“Schneider!” Lydia, on the other hand, looked more than happy to see him. She had been at the table with the newspaper, which she quickly put down. “It’s been so long since we last saw each other, I was growing worried.” Her thick accent made recognizing her sarcasm a little harder, but he was used to the Alvarez sense of humor by now.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Lydia.” Schneider settled in next to her at the table.

“Yes, that is true. I try telling that to Leslie, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint.”

“So, Lydia, I was actually hoping you could help me out a little. Avery wants me to make her dinner tomorrow, and… well, you’ve tried my cooking.”

“Is that what you call it?” Lydia shook her head. “Of course, Schneider, I will help you make a _maravillosa_ meal for your girlfriend. Whatever you want – as long as it’s _Cubano_ , of course. Is that what you’ve brought in your bag?”

Schneider looked down at the brown messenger bag he was carrying. It almost surprised him that it was there. It wasn’t like he didn’t remember grabbing it, and tossing in half a bottle of Bailey’s, but he had sort of forgotten about it. It was like he had done that on instinct. “Oh, uh… no. This is… spoon supplies. I’m into Spoon Carving now. It’s what all the kids are doing, now. It’s kind of the new _Fushigi_.”

Lydia stared at him in confusion.

“It doesn’t really matter. Anyway, I’ll buy the supplies tomorrow and bring them over. I just don’t know what to get.”

“We will make something _sencillo_ … _Lechon Asado con Mojo_. She is not, eh, vega-phobic, is she?”

“You mean vegetarian? No, she isn’t.”

“Good. I will write you a list.”

While Lydia wrote down what they needed, he excused himself to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him, and as soon as he sat down on the closed toilet seat he whipped out the bottle and took a sip before he could stop and think about his decision.

The way he figured, it was a lot easier to drink if he didn’t think first. And he really wanted to drink. So why not make it easier?

After what seemed like a decent amount of time to spend in the bathroom, he put the bottle back into the bag, clipped it shut, and went back out. Lydia handed him the list and invited him to practice by helping her make dinner for the family, tonight. He wholeheartedly agreed it was a good idea.

Lydia was incredibly good at timing dinner to when Penelope got home from work. He was sure that back in the day, Berto always arrived home to the smell of grilled pork and maybe a little rum.

Elena and Syd ate together in her room since there weren’t enough seats for everyone. Plus, it seemed like the two of them were craving a little alone time, anyway. The rest of them gathered at the table as Schneider handed out dishes.

“Schneider, this is the second meal you’ve served me, today.” Penelope grabbed a plate from him. “I could get used to this.”

“Well, waffles were all mine, but this one was mostly your mother.”

“ _Si_ , he is practicing for his girlfriend,” Lydia explained.

“Ah,” Penelope nodded, her lips forming an oddly straight line. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

After dinner, Pen told Alex to do the dishes and Schneider hurried off to the bathroom again. If he thought about it – which he definitely was _not_ doing – it was pretty good that he could make it through an entire dinner without another drink. But, again, he wasn’t thinking about it.

When he came back out, Penelope was on the couch. The television was on, but she didn’t really seem to be watching; she was staring blankly in front of her. He dropped down beside her, which shook her out of whatever daydream she was in. “Jesus, Schneider, you scared me.” She quickly looked up at her mother, who was dancing around Alex in the kitchen. “Oh, good, she didn’t hear me.”

Schneider grinned, resting his arms up on the couch. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, Boo? You seemed a little lost, there.”

Pen shook her head. “Oh, nothing, just work stuff.”

“Ah, yeah. I know how it is.” His deadpan delivery made her roll her eyes. “You’re sure that’s it?”

Something about the look in her eyes told him it wasn’t, but again she said otherwise. She was usually so willing to open up to him, he didn’t know why she would be holding back now. “It’s really nothing, Schneider. Anyway, don’t you have a girlfriend to be setting up for? A homemade dinner at your apartment is a big step, you know.”

“Why? She’s been there before. We’ve eaten together before.”

Penelope shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s more… intimate. Romantic. It shows that you’re serious about the relationship.”

“If that’s the case then your mother is _totes_ into me.”

“ _Oh, por favor,_ you wish.” She gently elbowed him.

Lydia came out from the kitchen. “Do I hear you two talking about me?” She picked her phone off the table and in a few moments, there was suddenly salsa music filling the house. She started to dance, motioning for the two of them to get up and join her.

Before he knew it, he, Lydia, Pen, and Alex were all dancing around the living room in a way that Elena would have been totally embarrassed by if she and Syd were still out here. Alex was a little hesitant to begin, but after a few awkward moves he was laughing along with the rest of them.

Schneider couldn’t help but think about how lucky Alex was. To grow up in a house like this one, surrounded by people who love him dearly. Being able to dance with his mother and grandmother, just because. He knew that there were some rough patches when Alex was younger but… Schneider would have given _anything_ for a home like this when he was Alex’s age.

Lydia took him by the hand and he tried desperately to remember the steps she had taught him a few years ago. Still, even as he fumbled over his feet – the alcohol wasn’t exactly improving his coordination – she grinned up at him. He couldn’t help but feel that he finally found the home he had yearned for as a kid.

But he couldn’t stay forever.

Eventually they got tired out, and Schneider said his goodbyes. Penelope was right – he had a lot of cleaning up to do in his apartment. Avery couldn’t find any trace of alcohol when she was over.

As he left the Alvarez apartment, and headed up the stairs, he felt the smile on his face slowly fade away. The cheerful, mushy feeling that had rushed through him during dinner and dancing also dwindled out by the time he had reached his own door.

He didn’t feel much of anything as he walked into his dark, empty apartment. It was like everything inside him had leaked out, and all that was left was this cold, hollow pit. And he felt very alone.

He only knew one thing that would make all that go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, full disclosure: when Schneider drops Avery back off at work and decides to have his daily drink, I had genuinely forgotten at the time that he had already had his drink for the day. But after realizing the mistake, I thought it actually made sense that Schneider had genuinely forgotten - or purposefully 'forgot' - about the earlier one and left it in.


	3. One Whole Life Recorded in Disappearing Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Schneider continues to drink, the parts of his life he had built while sober begin to feel overwhelming. His romantic life faces some major hurdles that he is not yet equipped to deal with, and he seems to lose what little control he had.
> 
> "Suddenly he was feeling incredibly anxious. He could not be having these sorts of thoughts right now. He was not even close to being in a place where he could handle that. He had too many things going on right now, and Penelope would just have to wait.  
> He locked himself in the bathroom and tried to breathe. Penelope was supposed to distract him from drinking, but it seemed like what he actually needed was a distraction from Penelope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one just flowed out so easily it was like it was writing itself. It's also a little sadder than the other two chapters - if that's possible - so consider this your warning.  
> Also, if there's anything you want to see in the next chapter (like any head cannons you have about what happened during his relapse) feel free to let me know. Since we don't really know how long he had been drinking, I'm guessing it was about two weeks from the ep with his father, to the ep where Victor tells Penelope that he's drinking. Thanks so much for reading!!

The third day was when things started to get a little groggy.

The night before he had drank quite a bit. He woke up on the couch next to a mostly empty bottle of whiskey he didn’t even remember buying. It took him a few minutes to gather the strength to stand up, and a few more to stumble around sloppily until he found his glasses. He dusted himself off a bit and staggered into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and downed it. Then he poured another and leaned against the counter.

Avery was coming over tonight.

He looked around the cluttered apartment, at all the empty bottles. His head hurt, and his back was sore from the night on the couch. He doubled over, placing his head on the counter. The granite was cool against his skin.

He had a problem.

Which, of course, he already knew. But now he knew it again. He had a problem that most certainly couldn’t be solved by himself. But what was he going to do, now? Call Nick? That would be… embarrassing. Call Pen? That would be even worse.

Maybe he should tell Avery. She was his girlfriend, anyway. He liked her a lot, and he trusted her, didn’t he? But he couldn’t help but feel it was too soon into their relationship. She couldn’t know how to help him, and it wasn’t her job to. It wasn’t anyone’s job but his own, and he was just going to have to figure it out.

But first, he had to worry about dinner tonight.

He finished his second glass of water and started a pot of coffee. While he waited for it to brew, he picked up the empty bottles and threw them in a trash bag. He left the lights off, which only made the apartment look even bleaker than usual, which didn’t help his state of mind, but it helped the headache.

It took about an hour before the apartment looked halfway decent, and he had finished two cups of coffee. It was now about one in the afternoon, and he still had to go shopping before Lydia came over. He took a second to relax and gather his thoughts, but as soon as he did he started thinking about drinking again, and he had to stop himself. He didn’t have time for that today.

* * *

The grocery store was easy – Lydia had been very specific with her instructions. The hard part was passing the liquor store right next door without going in. He was pleased with himself when he made it back to the car, alcohol free.

He brought the groceries upstairs and loaded his fridge and pantry before heading back down to the Alvarez’s to collect his head chef.

He was surprised to find Elena working on a paper at the table at 2 in the afternoon until he remembered it was Saturday, not a school day. It probably wasn’t a good sign that he couldn’t keep track of what day it was. “Hey, Schneider.” She looked up at him and smiled slightly, clearly invested in whatever she was writing.

“Shouldn’t you be out with your Syd-nifigant other or something, today? Or some friends?”

“If you think I should be having fun don’t worry – I am.” She paused. “Also, Syd’s out of town with their family for the weekend.”

“Ah. You wanna come third wheel at my dinner, tonight? Your _Abuelita_ is cooking, sort of.”

Elena shook her head. “ _Yeaaaah_ , I’m gonna have to say no to that.”

The curtains to his left suddenly flew open, revealing a well-dressed Lydia, looking even more fantastic than usual. “Ah, Schneider, you’re here!”

Schneider looked her up and down. If he didn’t know any better he would say she was wearing opera attire, not cooking attire. “Aren’t you a little… dressed up for this?”

“Right… Leslie came by this morning because he has a big conference to go to in Pasadena tonight. He has asked me to accompany him as his platonic companion.”

“Oh, I see.” Schneider tried not to look disappointed. This night was going to be hard enough without having to make the pork and _mojo_ by himself. He slumped down onto the couch. “Well, you should definitely go to that. It’s a bit more exciting than cooking someone else’s dinner in my apartment.”

“ _No te preocupes_ , Schneider. I would not leave you without good hands.” Lydia walked around the couch to sit beside him. She brushed back his hair just a bit, clearly seeing right through him. Because of course she did. “I’ve already asked Penelope to help you. She knows this recipe, and she can make it _almost_ as good as I can.”

“Oh, good.” Schneider let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, then. That works for me. I’ll miss cooking with you, though.”

Elena groaned quietly from her seat.

“I will miss it as well. I don’t know what this eh, doctor conference is, but Leslie was excited about it, so it must be boring.” She stood back up, patting Schneider on the shoulder before returning to her room. “He will be here soon, and I am still not ready. Good luck with your meal!” She closed the curtains back up, and he supposed she wanted him to pretend like they wouldn’t be able to hear each other anymore.

Elena looked up from her paper. “Mom’s in her room if you want to go get her.”

“Thanks.”

As he got up, he realized he had never actually been in her room before. It seemed strange, given how often he was in the apartment, but he never had any reason to be in there. He knocked on her door, which was also strange to do.

“Yup?” He wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed like that was a go-ahead to enter, so he opened the door slowly, giving her time to yell at him if necessary. She didn’t. Penelope was sitting on her bed, looking at her phone. She glanced up as the door opened. “Oh, hey, Schneider. I didn’t know when you were coming. You heard I’m on dinner duty, tonight?”

“I did! I’m super excited to find out how well you actually cook with your mother helping you along.”

“Wow, I would say the same to you, but I already know what that’s like and it’s not a good sign.” She grinned, putting her phone away in her pocket. “Alright, let’s go.”

* * *

“So, technically you should have been marinating this pork all night, but we can still give it a few hours if she’s going to be here at seven.” Penelope jumped straight to business as soon as they entered his apartment. “Get all the ingredients for the _mojo_ together and we’ll start with that.”

It was weirder cooking with Pen than Lydia. Even though they were both moms, Schneider didn’t really look at Penelope that way; a maternal way. Perhaps because she was also such a badass, or maybe just because she was his age. Despite his own age, he still felt too young to have kids. But maybe the real word he was going for was immature. He was plenty old, but too immature to handle all that responsibility. And not nearly sober enough.

He liked kids a lot. He always got along well with them. He had only seen Elena and Alex a handful of times before they moved in permanently a few years ago, but he always liked them when they came to visit their grandmother. Kids were fun and easy from his perspective, but that was only because he wasn’t in charge of their well-being. Just taking Alex to games overnight stressed him out beyond belief. He couldn’t imagine feeling that way all the time.

He always figured he’d be a better _Tio_ than a _Papi_ , anyway. He was just that type of guy.

But Penelope was a great mother, even if he didn’t think about it all that often. She had raised two great kids, mostly without much help from her husband. Badass, indeed.

They let the pork marinate for a few hours, which gave them some downtime. As the two of them sat on his couch, Schneider couldn’t help but wish he had stopped at that liquor store. He needed a distraction from those thoughts.

“So, how are things going with Mateo? You two seem to get along well.”

Penelope nodded unenthusiastically. “Yeah, Mateo is great. We’ve got a lot in common… the same sense of humor… it’s great.”

“But…?”

“But what?”

“Come on, Pen, I can read a room. There’s definitely a but coming.”

Penelope sighed. “ _But…_ I just don’t feel that _spark_ yet, like I thought I would by now. I really enjoy the time we spend together, but it doesn’t feel like…” Her eyes slid over to him and then back to her lap. “It doesn’t feel like it did with Max, or Victor for that matter.”

“It seems like _someone_ was right about you being in the friendzone.” Schneider grinned and Penelope rolled her eyes. “But hey, you never know. That spark could happen at any time. Have you ever heard a story from a couple who started as friends? That connection never happens immediately. Falling in love – truly in love – takes time. It comes slowly.”

Penelope turned to him. Her eyes were kind of droopy and sad, and he worried he had brought the mood down too much with this conversation. “It seems like you and Avery were love at first sight.”

Schneider gulped. Avery was yet another thing he tried not to think much about. Or rather, he tried not to think about their relationship. “I love her, I do. But… we haven’t been together for all that long. I don’t know that I’m _in love_ with her just yet.”

Penelope chuckled. “What happened to the guy who proposed to soul-crushing Nikki just because she called you her boyfriend?”

Schneider laughed, too. “Touché. But, honestly, I’ve changed since then. I think…” The Alvarez’s changed him. Slowly, but surely, they did. Penelope was right – he was ready to marry a woman he didn’t even like just because she was willing to make the commitment. It seemed crazy now, but it was true. He had been _desperate_ for a connection back then. He didn’t know what love really was, and he certainly didn’t know how to get it.

But things _were_ different, now. He was different. Penelope in particular had shown him that he was capable of having healthy relationships with people who actually cared about him. She showed him that he was worth a lot more than he ever thought. If a badass veteran/nurse/super mom could not only enjoy his company but _need_ his company from time to time… he must be doing something right.

But he couldn’t tell her that, because it sounded… different than what he intended. It almost sounded romantic, and that wasn’t it at all. He and Pen were just friends – best friends, in fact. So instead of telling her all that, he simplified by saying “I think I’ve grown up a bit since then.”

“Well, good. Because if Nikki was the one you were having over for dinner tonight, _estarias solo, amante_. I wouldn’t be cooking.”

“Fair enough.” Schneider reached over for a one-armed hug, and she reciprocated. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

He thought she would pull away, but she stayed in the crook of his arm, gently laying her head against his chest. “You’ve done a lot for us, Schneider. And you didn’t ask for anything in return, but that doesn’t mean I don’t owe you something.” He felt his face grow hot.

“You don’t owe me anything, Pen.”

“So you say. But, even if I _didn’t_ , I still like hanging out with you.”

The two of them sat there for a while, her leaning against him, his arm around her waist. He could smell the faint scent of coconut-scented shampoo in her hair. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own, and he was sure she could feel the same. He was afraid he would disturb her and send her away if he moved even the slightest bit, so he stayed still.

The two of them like this just felt so… right. So comfortable. So natural.

In a _platonic_ way, though.

Right?

He tried to ignore the feeling in his gut, but it was becoming a little overwhelming. Even more so than the urge to drink. It was the same feeling he had when he first met Avery at that school auction.

But that was insane – it couldn’t be the same feeling. He had felt attracted to Avery, and that’s not what was going on right now. Penelope was his friend. They had been friends for so long, it was hard to imagine them as anything else. Sure, he had thought about it when they first met, but who wouldn’t? She _was_ beautiful. But back then she was married so he dropped it, and then she moved away so quickly. When she and her (now plural) kids finally moved back in, newly separated from her husband, any romantic involvement wasn’t even an option in his mind anymore.

Suddenly he was feeling incredibly anxious. He could _not_ be having these sorts of thoughts right now. He was not even close to being in a place where he could handle that. He had too many things going on right now, and Penelope would just have to wait.

He abruptly shot up off the couch, putting distance in-between them. Even when he was standing, he could still feel the weight of her head against his chest. “I, uh, I’ll be right back. Nature calls.”

Penelope seemed surprised by the sudden move but waved him off. He wondered if she had similar thoughts roaming through her own mind right now, or if it was just him.

Secretly – _way_ deep down – he hoped she was.

He locked himself in the bathroom and tried to breathe. Penelope was supposed to distract him from drinking, but it seemed like what he actually needed was a distraction from Penelope.

Except he didn’t have any alcohol left in the house. Well, not the traditional kind, anyway.

He opened the cabinet beneath his sink where two unopened bottles of Listerine mouthwash were kept. He had them there to hide the alcohol from his breath, but there were other uses, too. He remembered back in his high school days when it was difficult to get booze without his many parents finding out. When he could find no other alternative, mouthwash was actually pretty effective at getting you drunk.

He gulped it down, trying to ignore the sting as it washed down his throat. The minty taste was so strong it actually kind of hurt his tongue. He drank about a quarter of the large-sized bottle before he stopped, and he could already feel the buzz.

He threw the bottle back under the sink and went back into the living room.

Penelope was watching the television when he returned. “Are you okay? You were in there for, like, ten minutes,” she asked, genuinely concerned.

“Was I?” He really hadn’t noticed. “Nah, I’m fine. I was just, uh, fixing my hair. I don’t just wake up like this, you know.”

Penelope looked up at him and frowned. “It looks the same.”

Schneider fake gasped as dramatically as he could muster. “How dare you!”

She rolled her eyes, and he seemed to have once again avoided suspicion.

* * *

Once the pork was marinated, the real cooking began. Penelope ran through the instructions, directing Schneider around the kitchen as he scurried to keep up. Even completely sober this would have been a hard job. They got the pork in the oven quickly, setting another timer. Then they had to make the veggies and the rice.

As frantic as he felt – and as much as he kept tripping over himself – the experience was fun. He didn’t mind Penelope bossing him around, and she seemed to have fun doing it. They shimmied around each other in the relatively small space, and every time they brushed by one another he felt his heart skip a beat.

This was so, so bad.

But he was trying to enjoy it for the moment.

He put on some old playlists left over from his spin class days. Penelope may have claimed to not like his music, but he could see her swaying to the beat and mouthing the words to most of the choruses. He couldn’t help but smile.

The timer went off, and Penelope grabbed the pork out of the oven. “Well, well, well. I think we did a pretty good job. What do you think?” She placed the pan on the stove, and Schneider had to agree. He didn’t eat much when he drank, but he was definitely feeling hungry now.

“I think your mother would be proud.” He wrapped his arm around her, keeping his hand high up on her back on purpose.

“I’ll take a picture to show her later,” Penelope said, but didn’t make a move to do so. They both just stood there, appreciating their work and each other’s company.

“Wow, it smells delicious in here!” The sound of Avery’s voice caused Schneider to turn around. He quickly pulled his arm away from Penelope and brought both of his hands down awkwardly to his sides. Penelope looked just as surprised as she stood beside him.

“Avery!” Schneider rushed into the living room to greet her. “I’m glad you’re here – and early!”

He enveloped her in a hug and she kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Yeah, sorry about that! I thought you might want some help finishing up the food, but I see you were already in good hands.” She giggled unconvincingly, and Schneider knew this was probably a bad look for him.

“I was just making sure neither of you got food poisoning tonight!” Penelope turned off the music before going to join them in the other room.

Avery smiled, opening her arms to hug Penelope as well. “Well I’m certainly grateful for that!”

Penelope hugged her quickly. “I should probably leave you two lovebirds alone, now. I’m sure you have a busy night planned.” She flashed a quick smile to Schneider and left.

“Yeah, thanks Pen!” He called after her, then turned his gaze back to Avery. “Sorry if that was weird. I just wanted to make sure you got a really good meal tonight. You deserve it.”

Avery brought her hand up to his cheek. “That’s really sweet, Schneider. Come on, let’s eat.”

* * *

The dinner went by quietly. Avery tried to fill the silence with anecdotes about her day, but Schneider couldn’t really focus his attention. He got up three times throughout the meal to ‘use the restroom,’ and the mouthwash was starting to make him feel sick.

“You seem distracted, Schneider.” Avery eventually pointed out. He felt his heart start to pound in his chest.

“Do I?” He looked down at his plate and realized he hadn’t eaten much of it, either. “Sorry, I had, uh, a weird morning is all.”

“With Penelope?” Avery frowned.

Actually, he spent the morning passed out and hungover, but that didn’t sound any better. “No, I just, uh… I had a lot to do today, and there was this crazy guy at the grocery store – did I not tell you about him? Oh man, he was-”

“Schneider.” Avery stopped him in the middle of his lie and he was actually kind of grateful, because he had no idea where that was going. She brought her hands into her lap and sighed. “I didn’t know how to say this, because I’m obviously really happy that you have such close friends that are right downstairs…”

_Oh, shit_. Deep down he knew this was coming, but he wished he could gulp down more mouthwash – or better yet, some tequila – before having this conversation.

Avery shook her head. “I’m just going to ask: are you into Penelope?”

Schneider tried to feign surprise at the question, but in his drunken state he wasn’t sure if he was pulling it off or not. “Of course not, Avery! I love you, I would never do anything like that!”

“I didn’t ask if you were cheating on me, Schneider. I know you would never do that. I’m asking… if you have _feelings_ for her.”

What made all of this worse was the sympathetic look in her eyes. Here she was, accusing him of being into somebody else, and she felt bad for _him_? That wasn’t how this was supposed to work. If she had been angry with him, he could have been defensive – he could have gotten angry back. But she wasn’t, and so he didn’t know how to respond.

“I don’t know where this is coming from. Is it because I asked her to help me with the dinner? This was for you! She was just helping.”

“It’s not just today – it’s every day! You spend all your time with them. You spend all your time with her. When you have a problem, you go to Penelope, and I find out about it later. I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, but most of the time I don’t feel like it.”

“Th- this is… this is ridiculous! I told you going in to this that they were family to me. Of course I spend time with them. I just… I don’t understand.” He pushed his chair back from the table and tried to stand, but as he did he stumbled backwards and fell onto the floor.

“Schneider!” Avery stood up and ran over to him, trying to help him up.

Schneider waved her off, pulling himself off his ass. “I… I’m fine.” He steadied himself on his feet, but his whole body felt heavy.

Avery was looking at him in shock. “What’s wrong with you? You haven’t been yourself this entire time.”

“Nothing is wrong, except for you accusing me of being in love with my best friend,” Schneider snapped back, all the while hating himself for his tone. Avery didn’t deserve his anger, not really. It wasn’t like she was entirely off base – he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling right now. She was an amazing woman who loved him for some inexplicable reason, and he was messing it all up.

She deserved better than him, period.

“Schneider, have you…” She reached a hand toward him. “Have you been drinking?”

Again, not entirely off base. “Oh my God… I am _not_ drinking!” He pulled away from her hand a little too fast, and almost fell over again. Luckily, he caught himself on the counter behind him and tried to play it off as on purpose. “Is there any other wild accusation you would like to throw at me?”

Avery looked like she was about to cry, and it absolutely broke his heart. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to lie, and be so _mean_? Why couldn’t he just be honest with her?

“I think I’m going to go home,” She said quietly. She slowly walked back to her seat and grabbed her purse. Schneider tried to meet her eyes, but she wouldn’t look in his direction. He stayed silent as she headed for the door. She hesitated for just a moment as she stood in the open doorway. “Why don’t you call me when you’re yourself again, okay?”

He didn’t reply, and she shut the door.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up in his bed and cry until he fell asleep. He wanted to feel sorry for himself, and sorry for Avery and their relationship. He wanted to wallow in the deep sadness he was feeling until he was sober enough to go back to her and apologize.

Yet the pit in his stomach was so dense and dark he thought that if he dived down there he would never find his way back up to the surface. He worried that if he allowed himself to submit to his feelings, that he would completely lose himself in them. He felt like the walls around him were closing in, and his chest was tightening with every breath he took. He couldn’t bear to _think_ anymore. He couldn’t bear existing in his own mind anymore.

The world around him was too sharp, too real. He needed to dull it down just to breathe. He needed to drown out everything – the world, his thoughts, his feelings – just to make sure he was still alive.

He needed to drink.

All he grabbed was his wallet and his car keys, and then he left. He practically ran out his door, didn’t even bother locking it behind him. The elevator would take too long to get to him, so he rushed down the stairs instead.

He had made it to the front door of the apartments when he ran into Penelope on her way inside. “Oh, hey Schneider. How was the dinner? Where’s Avery?”

Schneider could feel himself _vibrating_ , he was so on edge. He tried to quell his shaking hands and hoped that Pen didn’t notice. He was, after all, a weirdly energetic guy. Maybe she wouldn’t think it was that weird that he was speaking so fast he could hardly enunciate each word. “Hey, girl. Dinner was great, she loved everything, you did a great job. She probably just left – we’re headed to her place now.”

Penelope raised her brow. “Ahh, I see you’re itching to get over there. Well, you two have fun. I’m guessing you won’t be making it over for breakfast, tomorrow.”

“Probably not,” Schneider couldn’t stand there any longer. “Anyway, I gotta go. See ya!”

He didn’t wait for her reply, and it didn’t much matter if he did because he wouldn’t have remembered it anyway. The rest of the night was such a blur in his memory that he couldn’t even remember which bar he ended up going to first. And he certainly didn’t remember all the ones that came after that.

He also had a vague memory of a club bathroom, a young woman with unnaturally red hair and a nose piercing, and some little round pills. But he wasn’t sure if that had happened Saturday night, or sometime on Sunday.

The next clear memory he had was waking up in his apartment sometime Monday afternoon.

The whole apartment was a wreck. There were empty bottles lingering around the couch. Clothes and sheets laid in crumbled piles throughout the bedroom and living room. He had broken a snow globe at some point, and it was still laying in a pool of shattered glass and glycerin somewhere.

Schneider himself was laying on the couch, a half-empty bottle of vodka nestled between his abdomen and arm. He was dressed in sweatpants and an untied robe, and his glasses laid on the ground by his feet. His head was throbbing like nobody’s business, and even as hungover as he was, he had to admit that his self-regulation plan had not really panned out.

It had only been five days since his first sip of alcohol, and everything had gone to shit. Blackout drinking was not the sign of someone who had their life together. He knew he had to do something, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. The pit in his stomach had been well masked by the alcohol and drugs, but it hadn’t been filled. It was still there, gnawing at him. That void wasn’t going away anytime soon, and he was concerned that it never really would.

He picked himself off the couch, bringing the bottle of vodka with him into his bedroom. He sat down on the unmade bed and grabbed his phone out of his pocket. He looked through his messages, praying to God that he hadn’t been drunk-texting anyone important. He mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ when he found nothing incriminating. There were a few unanswered texts from Penelope, but those would have to wait until later.

He took a sip of the vodka, figuring the old hair-of-the-dog trick was the best way to make his hangover go away at this point. It certainly felt past the point of a little aspirin.

He scrolled up and down through his contacts.

_Avery_. He knew he should call her. He should apologize for what he said. He should tell her that she wasn’t at fault for feeling insecure, or for worrying about him drinking. He should tell her that he really does love her, and she has only made his life better.

_Nick_. He should really call his sponsor. As much as he hated the thought of having to make that phone call – once again – he knew that eventually he was going to have to admit his mistakes. Eventually he was going to have to tell him what happened, and how long he had gone off the rails. It seemed impossible to do at the moment.

_Penelope_. Pen would know what to do. She had been through this all before with Victor, and if he could prove to her that, unlike her ex-husband, he was _willing_ to change, willing to do as she says, he knew she would help him. That was just who she was. She was a mother, a nurse, a healer, a helper. And she was his best friend.

But he didn’t call any of those people. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he scrolled back up to someone he didn’t have to worry about disappointing. Someone he had drunkenly called many times in the past, asking for help. Someone who already knew what a failure he was and wouldn’t be surprised to find that he had gone and messed up again.

With a deep breath, and another mouthful of vodka, he called his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song title comes from the song "Lakeside View Apartment Suite" by the Mountain Goats. It's a song about addiction (by a really great band that you should all check out) and the loneliness that comes with it even when your surrounded by people.


	4. A Heart Worth Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up after a bender, Schneider faces some tough choices ahead of him. Some relationships need to be mended, some maintained, and some ended. This is a lot to do all on your own.
> 
> "For a moment he laid just like that and let the weight of his life rest on his chest.  
> He felt like he was suffocating. He was breathing, but it was like each breath wasn’t enough. Like the oxygen was there, but it wasn’t getting where it needed to go. Like he was alive, but just barely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this one took a while. I promise the next one should be up sooner! And there shouldn't be too many chapters left... probably. :)

_Of course_ he didn’t answer. _Of course_ Schneider was left once again disappointed by his father. It was too much to ask him to just pick up the god damn phone, for once. You would think his father would answer if only to tell him off about the building again – but even that, he couldn’t do.

It was expected, deep down, but it still hurt.

The monotone voice on the other line told him to leave a message at the tone, and he decided to take her up on her offer.

“Alright, father… you win.” He hated the way his words slurred together as they left his lips. It didn’t sound like him, not anymore. But his father would recognize him. It may have been almost a decade ago now, but for many years the only time the two ever talked on the phone was when Schneider was high, alone, and scared. Not unlike today. “I get it, okay? I-I’m a _failure_. I _suck_ at everything I try and do. Can’t even hold my liquor anymore…

But I did a _couple things_ right, you know… and, and _you_ ruined it! You just had to waltz into my building, insult my friends, and… you messed everything up! I was _sober_ , father. I-I had a great girlfriend, I had a family who actually _loved_ me. Me! And all that’s gone now… they won’t trust me anymore. They won’t _like_ me anymore. Not now.”

Schneider leaned forward, putting his head in his hands as the phone awkwardly pressed up against his cheek. He closed his eyes and all he could see in the darkness was that bottle of _Don Julio Royale_. Even as he told his father off, the knot in his stomach didn’t seem to be unraveling. This wasn’t helping, and deep down he knew why.

“No… that’s not – that’s not true…” He sat back up, eyes still closed. “It’s not your fault, it’s _mine_. I did this, I… I drank it. I drank all of it, I… it’s all my fault.” Tears were welling up in his eyes and he was in no position to hold them back. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I keep doing this, I just… I’m so _sorry_ , sir… I’m sorry. I didn’t… I tried so hard, I did. But it’s… _Dad_ , I need help. I can’t- I need help. I just-”

He heard a tone on the other end. He had run out of time, and the call ended.

He let the phone slide out of his hand and land on the floor. He let himself fall weakly backwards into the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, but he couldn’t make anything out without his glasses. He felt the tears roll from the corner of his eyes down the side of his face. For a moment he laid just like that and let the weight of his life rest on his chest.

He felt like he was suffocating. He was breathing, but it was like each breath wasn’t enough. Like the oxygen was there, but it wasn’t getting where it needed to go. Like he was alive, but just barely.

He just _couldn’t_ live like this. There was a reason he had given all this up years ago. This disease was sucking the life out of him – draining him of everything that made Schneider _Schneider_.

The bottle of vodka was sitting on the bedside table. It was still calling to him, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wanted to grab it. Yet, at the same time, just looking at it made him feel sick to his stomach. Everything inside him – every feeling, every urge, every desire – was conflicted. His emotions were at war. He wanted so much to drink, to drown out the world, to stop feeling so much pain. And he wanted to be free, free of it all. But it was all too clear that he couldn’t have both.

He knew what he had to do. He had known it all along, but he had been too scared to actually do it. He had been scared his whole life.

And whether he was a little kid, or a grown adult, when he got scared, he ran to his father. But no matter how old he was, his father did the same thing: he made his son somebody else’s problem. Whether it was a nanny, a driver, or a nurse in a rehabilitation center, he would send Schneider away to let someone else deal with it.

So, maybe it was a good thing he didn’t pick up this time. Because now Schneider had a chance to change the cycle he seemed to be trapped inside. He needed to do this himself. He needed to take control of his life and fix his own damn problems. He didn’t need his father – he never had. And he didn’t need anyone else, either.

He spent too long feeling sorry for himself, but no more. He was going to get off this bed, sober up, clear out all the alcohol from his apartment, and make this place his own rehab center. The good thing about being ridiculously rich is that he didn’t have anyone to answer to. He didn’t have any responsibilities to keep up with. He could ride this out, alone, and no one would be any wiser.

He could do this.

From the floor he heard his phone vibrate, just once.

_Nope_. He ignored it. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be important, and he didn’t have time for anything else right now.

Then it vibrated again.

And then a third time.

“Shit.” He knew he had to bite.

He bent forwards to pick up the phone, and suddenly the nausea was overwhelming. He barely made it to the bathroom in time before puking his guts out. He gripped the sides of the toilet, his knuckles going white.

It took him a couple minutes to recuperate before he felt able to crawl back to his phone. His heart sunk a little bit when he saw who the messages were from. Penelope.

“Schneider, I need your help.”

“I think I’m having a panic attack. I’m at work and I’m freaking out in the bathroom…”

“Sorry, this was stupid, I’m overreacting, everything’s fine.”

Schneider shook his head to himself. Of course she wasn’t fine – and of course he wasn’t prepared to help her _get_ fine. Not in this state. But who else was Penelope going to call for help? She barely spoke to anyone else about her anxiety; it wasn’t like she had a backup plan. She depended on Schneider, and it wasn’t her fault he had gone on a bender the last couple nights.

Maybe he did have a responsibility or two.

He texted her back. “It doesn’t sound like you’re fine. You need some more dog pics?”

“No, I’m going back to work. Don’t worry about me.” That only made him worry more. But he didn’t have time for this. He couldn’t juggle his own problems with hers, that only meant he was going to drop the ball on one of them.

When he was sober, helping the Alvarez’s was a nice distraction from drinking. And he was happy to lend a hand. It was the same reason he volunteered at the rec center or hung out in his tenants’ apartments all the time. He needed help, and so did they.

But they weren’t a volunteer gig. And they weren’t just tenants. They were more than that, and they deserved more. This was _Penelope_ he was talking about. And she needed his help.

“Fine or not, I’m taking you to lunch. You can’t argue with me, it’s in your lease.”

“You don’t need to, dummy,” Penelope insisted, but her use of _dummy_ told Schneider she had already accepted his pending arrival. She quickly texted again, “Fine, but we have to be fast. The waiting room is full of coughing kids and their snotty-nosed parents.”

* * *

 

Schneider had to work quickly to get himself presentable, again. He ignored the nausea and headache and tried to focus his thoughts on Pen. He figured he wasn’t in much of a state to drive, so he ordered an UberBLACK and went on his way.

Her office wasn’t far from the apartment building, so he managed to get there quite quickly. He entered the waiting room, and the first person he saw was Lori – the same Lori that tried to get with him while drunk at Pen’s dinner party. So… good start.

“ _Hey_ … Lori.” He approached her desk warily. “I don’t know if you remember me-“

“Of course! From Dr. B’s party!” Lori’s eyes lit up. “That was a fun party, huh?”

“The best.” Schneider tried to glance behind her to try and see either Pen or Dr. B, but no luck. “Anyway, Is Penelope here? I'm picking her up for lunch."

Lori glanced behind her and then back at him, a sly smile plastered on her face. "I don't know where she is, but you can take _me_ to lunch of you want." Even without a few drinks in her system she was flirting, which was unexpected. Of course, one of them _did_ have a few drinks – and more – in their system. And women _were_ sort of his go-to distraction back in the day. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad ide-

No.

What was he thinking?

Schneider couldn't believe that he actually considered her offer. Things were really going downhill. Luckily, he caught himself in time, and instead offered, "Uh... maybe next time. Could you, like, call Pen, or… something? We kinda need to get going…"

Lori looked disappointed, but she did leave to go grab Penelope. It was only a few moments before she returned with Pen trailing not far behind her.

"Sorry about that, Schneider, I'm ready to go!"

The two of them headed back to the Uber. He focused all his energy on getting his sentences out coherently. So far it seemed to be working. “So, where do you want to go? There's this new Italian place a few blocks from here, or-"

"I don't feel like going someplace fancy right now, dressed in scrubs." Penelope shrugged. "I just want to stuff my face with something _grasiento y delicioso_."

"So... Taco Bell?"

"Ooh, perfect."

The Taco Bell was completely empty, save for a couple of unimpressed employees behind the counter. They ordered quickly, and Schneider insisted on paying. And since it was all of 15 bucks, Penelope didn't even argue.

They sat at the table farthest from the registers, near the window. "As much as I appreciate you coming to have lunch with me, you really didn't have to do this, Schneider. I told you I was fine," Penelope insisted, biting into a Quesarito. 

"I know you are." Schneider looked down at the greasy burrito on his tray and felt like he was going to puke. Perhaps this wasn’t the best place to suggest in his state. He kept both hands wrapped around his drink, instead. " _But_ … if you want to talk about it, you can. Even if you're totally fine, now."

Pen let out a long sigh. "I mean... it's really nothing. We just had a lot of angry clients today, and people are _so_ ungrateful sometimes. And I just... I was so unprepared to deal with them. And my NP exams are coming up in a month and a half, and that’s only going to _increase_ the number of insufferable assholes I have to deal with every day."

“And that’s what you were freaking out about?”

She nodded. “I just had to go into the restroom and _breathe_. But once I was alone I was able to, you know, ground myself. Remember what was real. And I straightened myself out.” She seemed just a little proud of herself for that, and he knew she was right to feel that way. It was difficult to do that sort of thing on your own.

“Well, good. I’m glad. Because you have _nothing_ to worry about. Sure, you’re gonna deal with a lot of ungrateful idiots who don’t realize how lucky they were to get _you_ as their nurse practitioner… but they’ll turn around once they see what an amazing job you’re doing.” Schneider could see the smile forming on Pen’s face as he spoke. “And you _will do_ an amazing job. Just like you’re doing an amazing job at work now, and at home with your kids. You’re going to be fine – you’re going to be _more_ than fine.”

Penelope chuckled, and he knew he had done his job right. “What, are you the expert on nursing, now?”

“No. But I think it’s fair to say I’m an expert on you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe so.”

The rest of the lunch went well, and it mostly consisted of Penelope complaining about her upcoming exams. It was nice to feel normal again, and Schneider was sad to say goodbye to her again once the Uber pulled up to her office building. “You coming to dinner? We’ve missed you the last couple of nights while you were with Avery.” She winked at the last part, and Schneider cringed a little inside. She had no idea how wrong she was.

“Only if your mother is making _ropa vieja_ ,” Schneider played it casual.

“For you, I’m sure she will.”

He watched Penelope walk away, and he knew that before he could do anything else, he had someone else to see. He gave the driver Avery’s address.

* * *

 

He stood in front of Avery’s door for a good ten minutes before he got up the courage to ring the doorbell. He had never felt so nervous in his life. The fluttering in his chest only got worse when he heard the slight jiggle of the doorknob. When she opened the door, she did not look surprised to see him. Her lips were pressed together in a thin, straight line. “Come on in, Schneider.”

He followed her inside, but she didn’t lead him very far. The two of them stood in her massive hallway, feet apart. Her arms were crossed, and she was watching him, closely. Schneider didn’t want to go first, but it was clear that she was waiting for him to start.

“Avery… I’m so sorry. I’ve handled all of this so badly, and you deserve so much better.” He wasn’t used to this. To fighting being part of a relationship. Any relationship he had ever had with a woman in the past was weak enough that they’d both be willing to call it off if the couldn’t agree on the same restaurant for dinner. But Avery wasn’t like all the others. He loved her. “I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I’m sorry.”

Avery nodded, her bottom lip quivering. “Was I right?” He raised his brow. “Were you drinking that night?”

Schneider let out a sigh. He had nothing left to lose. He simply nodded.

Avery shook her head, looking away from him for a moment. “I thought you had quit. You were sober for so long.”

“I know. But it’s… sobriety is a process. It’s a constant struggle. And sometimes… sometimes you lose.”

“Are you still drinking?”

“I’m… quitting, again,” He replied, purposefully vague. “You shouldn’t have had to see me like that, Ave. It wasn’t right of me. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Avery glanced back to him, meeting his eyes. “Be honest with me.” He nodded. “I know you were drunk when we had dinner. But, before… when you picked me up and we went for lunch… were you… had you already slipped?”

Schneider stared at her, his throat closing up. He squeezed his hands together to stop them from shaking by his sides. “It, uh… it happened when my father was still here.”

Avery’s eyes closed, her shoulders dropping. She wasn’t tense anymore, she didn’t look angry. She looked… sad. She reopened her eyes which were now glistening with tears. “I didn’t even know, Schneider. I’m sorry, I should have noticed.”

Schneider shook his head. “No, it’s not your job to notice. Addicts are good liars, Ave. We have to be.”

“I know,” Avery continued, slowly. “Which means I may never know. I’ll never know if you’ve slipped, or if you’re sober. I’ll never know if you’re having a bad day or you’re drinking. I’ll never know if you’re _lying to me_ , or if I’m just paranoid.”

_Oh._ This was what he expected. This was exactly what he was worried would happen if he came over. She couldn’t deal with him. She couldn’t deal with his addictions. She was breaking up with him.

“I’m so sorry, Schneider. I thought… I thought I could do this. But… I don’t think it’s a good idea, anymore.”

Schneider nodded, letting his chin drop to his chest. “I understand.”

Avery walked over to him, reached up and ran the back of her hand against the side of his face. “You’re a _good_ man, Schneider. And you’re going to get your drinking under control, and you’re going to make another woman very happy. I promise, you.”

Schneider let out a small sob, and Avery pressed gently on the back of his neck, which was his sign to lean down. She pressed her lips against his forehead. When he pulled back, she was crying as well. “You’re getting help, right?”

No, he wasn’t. But that wasn’t her problem, anymore. He nodded.

“And Penelope knows what happened?” He nodded again. “Okay. I’m sorry I can’t be here for you, Schneider. You should go be with your family.”

He couldn’t argue with her, there.

But as he left her house and made his way to the street to wait for his Uber, he felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and stared at the screen. As he pressed ‘accept’ and brought it to his face, he realized he had been holding his breath, and exhaled.

“Father?”

“Patrick.”

He let his name hang in the air for a few moments. “I, uh, I shouldn’t have called earlier, I’m sorry.”

“But you did call me,” His father sounded almost bored on the other end. He could imagine him sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone as he spoke to his son, completely apathetic to the conversation. “It sounds like you still can’t hold your drink after all these years.” Schneider frowned. “And it looks like it is me, once again, who has to pick up after you. I’ve already made you an appointment at the La Fuente center. Maybe this time rehab will stick.”

“I… I can’t do rehab again, Dad.” He couldn’t help that his voice sounded like a whiny teenager, again. He hated that this combination of drinking and dealing with his dad made him _feel_ like a teenager again. In the worst kind of way. “It’s lonely in there, it’s awful. I can do this without it. I-I’ll go to meetings, and I’ll follow the steps, and I- “

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Patrick. Not again. The last time you told me you’d sober up without rehab you ended up overdosing in Mexico. It was a nightmare dealing with Immigration just to get you back into the U.S. Not to mention your hospital bills.”

“That was 20 years ago, sir. I haven’t… It won’t happen, again. Things are different, now. I’m in a different place!”

His father scoffed. “To be honest, I don’t know why I bother. You are clearly going to do whatever you want. I want to help you sell your building and expand your business – you want to keep it and lose millions of dollars. I want you to get your life together at the rehab clinic – you want to drink your life away. I want a son I can be proud to hand my legacy over to – and you want to end up dead in an alley, somewhere.”

“Father-“

“Don’t. Call me when you’re ready to be a man, and a _son_ , or don’t call me at all.” The call ended.

Just a few years ago he would have been crushed by that conversation. Crushed that his father didn’t respect him, didn’t _like_ him, didn’t believe in him.

But now? It felt like an out. He was never going to be ready to be that man’s son. He was never going to be man enough for him. But he didn’t have to be.

He didn’t have to be.

He didn’t have to be.

His Uber pulled up in front of him, and he climbed in. The woman driving didn’t bother making small talk, and he was grateful to have the time to himself. To think.

No, he wasn’t crushed by his father pushing him away.

He was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from "How You Remind Me" by Nickelback. 
> 
> (Y'all can make fun of Nickelback all you want but you know that song hits home.)


	5. Something Has Got to Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider slides back into his old bad habits, and lying to his family gets easier and easier. But a dinner with Victor brings everything crumbling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said originally that this story would end with the events in 3.11, but I think I'll probably extend it past canon because I love it a lot and I want to keep taking it farther.

Freedom didn’t necessarily treat him well.

The week after the phone call with his father went by in a blur. He managed to keep it cool around the Alvarezes. Most nights he was drinking himself to sleep, but he always managed to get up in the morning for Lydia’s _café Cubano_. If he didn’t she might’ve been suspicious.

He made it over to their place most evenings for dinner, and on the nights he chose rum over _ropa vieja_ he simply told them he was with Avery. He didn’t tell them about his breakup because it seemed easier than trying to explain _why_ it happened. Besides, they didn’t ask much about her.

He was starting to slide back into his old habits. Lying to the Alvarezes became easier and easier, as it turned out. They didn’t seem to notice anything was off, and he found ways to drink in secret even when he was with them. At one point he hid a bottle of whiskey in the back of their guest toilet so he could have a couple sips every time he used the bathroom.

Other than that, he kept his distance. He couldn’t afford to slip up and give himself away. Maybe the family would have noticed his avoidance if they didn’t have so much else going on. Penelope was in her last semester of school, and she was spending all her free time studying (not that she had much to begin with.) Elena was in a similar boat, and she had cut back on her Handy Ma’am work in order to finish SAT prep. And with Alex still grounded and ‘imprisoned’ within the confines of the apartment, he and Lydia kept each other busy.

Everything seemed to be chugging along just fine. The Alvarezes were doing okay, he was doing okay. They didn’t seem to have a clue that he had slipped, and his relapse wasn’t having a negative effect on them. It was the least he could ask for. A tiny voice in the back of his head told him that he wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever – but he was up for the challenge.

He had no way of knowing it, but it was during dinner Sunday evening that everything began to unravel.

“So, Victor’s bringing his new _girlfriend_ over for dinner in a couple days,” Penelope made a face as she said the word ‘girlfriend.’ She glanced over at Elena and Alex, adding, “I mean, I’m very happy for _Papi_ , of course. I _can’t wait_ to meet his yoga instructor – I mean significant other.”

“ _Ay_ , don’t worry, _Lupita_. The _bibliotecaria caliente_ has nothing on you,” Lydia smiled, taking a bite of her _fricasé de pollo_.

Schneider laughed, pretending he didn’t notice the bottle of rum on the counter behind her. “Well, _I_ for one am looking forward to meeting her.”

Penelope rolled her eyes, but her lips curled upwards, anyway. “I don’t think you’re invited, Schneider.”

“When has that ever stopped him before?” Elena raised her brow.

Schneider was always a little hurt by jokes like that, but the genuine smile on Elena’s face told him that’s all it was: a joke. So, he tried to take it as such. “Hey, Victor and I are bros. He’ll want me there.”

“Eh, _Papi_ knows to expect him by now,” Alex laughed. “Besides, the whole dinner is already going to be _totally_ awkward.”

Penelope laid her silverware down, putting on her ‘mom-face’. “Okay, kids. I know I joke, but we’re all going to give her and your father a chance, alright? This is important to him, so it’s important to us.”

The kids murmured their agreement – as did Lydia – and Schneider was a little impressed. He knew Victor bringing over his new girlfriend must be really hard for Penelope – especially when she was so obviously not _totally_ into Mateo the way she claimed. But for her to really give him a shot, and defend him, was kind of amazing.

Of course once everyone else had retired to their rooms after dinner, leaving just him and Penelope alone in the kitchen, her attitude changed just a bit.

“ _¡Esto es ridículo!_ ” She muttered as she aggressively dried a plate above the sink. Schneider silently worried she was going to break it, sending glass everywhere. “So he wants to come over here to _my_ apartment and rub his _muñeca linda_ all up in my face?”

She handed the dish to Schneider (thankfully in one piece) who placed it in the cabinet. “Maybe he just wants your approval?” He offered, almost sheepishly.

Penelope scoffed. “Yeah, right. Victor never needs my approval for anything. Why start now? No, no, no. He just wants to show off.”

“Even so, you have _way_ more to show off than he does!”

Penelope sighed, flipping the drying rag onto her shoulder. “I know. And I know I shouldn’t care that he’s got a girlfriend, or whatever. The truth is – if he’s happy, I know I should be happy for him. And part of me is. But… I’m also a little worried.”

“Worried about what?”

She shook her head. “Victor hasn’t been sober for that long. And whatever college student he’s got with him just _can’t_ be good for his sobriety, you know?” Schneider _did_ know, but didn’t say anything. “He needs a _real_ relationship with an actual _adult_. I’ve been down this road with him too many times… so have the kids. I just worry that he still isn’t taking his sobriety seriously.”

Schneider felt the ever-present knot in his gut getting tighter. He hoped she didn’t notice his silence, because he couldn’t think of a single thing to say in this moment.

Penelope was such a strong person; a great parent and friend. She deserved better than the likes of Victor and Schneider, and yet she always seemed to get pulled back in. That’s why he couldn’t tell her about his relapse. He couldn’t admit to her that while Victor was probably totally sober and happy with his new relationship, despite her worries, it was _Schneider_ that hadn’t taken it seriously, and fucked it up.

And she hadn’t seen _that_ coming.

“I know, it’s stupid. I should just shut my mouth and get through the _pendejo_ dinner.”

“It’s not stupid, Pen. It’s… sweet.” Penelope looked at him, brow scrunched in confusion. “You really care about him, despite everything. You’re looking out for him, and your kids. It’s sweet of you, but… it’s not your job, either. You got to let him make his own decisions, even if they’re bad ones.”

Penelope frowned. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She leaned over to him for a one-armed hug, which he accepted fondly. “Look, I can finish up in here. Why don’t you head on home, okay?”

A few weeks ago, he would have insisted he stayed and helped – because he didn’t have anything for him back home. Everything he had was right here. But now, things were different. Something _was_ waiting for him in his apartment, and he planned on drinking it. “If you say so. Night, Pen.”

“Good night, Schneider.”

* * *

The morning of the dinner with Victor, Schneider planned on being there for the big reveal. He wanted to see the look on Penelope’s face when Victor introduced her to his girlfriend.

But drunks aren’t known for being particularly punctual, and he lost track of time around the fourth glass of whiskey. When he realized the time, he quickly got dressed, gargled some mouthwash, and ran downstairs.

He burst through the door, hoping he hadn’t missed too much, already. The family was gathered in the living room. He saw Penelope sitting on the couch beside Elena, and Victor standing behind them. “Hey, Pen! What up, _hombre_?” He laughed, greeting Victor. “So, where’s this girlfriend?” He turned around, noticing Penelope sitting on one of the living room chairs. “Hey, Pen.” It wasn’t until after he got the words out that he caught himself. “Wait, what?” He glanced back and forth between Penelope and the woman who looked an _awful lot_ like Penelope. Maybe he was a lot more drunk than he thought.

Victor chuckled. “Hey, Schneider, uh, this is my fiancée, Nicole.”

Alright, so the man certainly had a type. “ _Whaaat_? Fiancée? That’s great!” He took her hand with an earnest grin. Then he remembered Penelope sitting right behind him, and he figured he should cover his bases. “Wait, am I mad about this?”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “All good.”

He let go of Nicole and focused back on Victor. “Locked it down, dog!”

He was genuinely happy for Victor – a man who had seen rock bottom many times yet seemed to have climb his way back on top. He had seen Victor at a particularly low point – and heard about much worse – and yet look at where he was, now.

Although the two of them had never _truly_ gotten along, Schneider felt a connection to Victor. Maybe it was just the addict thing, but he understood what Victor had gone through, even when his family couldn’t. Penelope looked at Victor like a troubled man who needed to pull himself together, and she wasn’t wrong. But Schneider also saw _himself_.

Not that it had excused Victor’s previous behavior, most recently when it came to his only daughter. But he had at least _started_ to make up for his mistakes. He was making an effort.

He was also sober and happily engaged, which was more than Schneider could tout right now.

Speaking of Elena, he couldn’t help but wonder what she and Alex thought about their soon-to-be step-mom. This was a big change for them, and not one that they were expecting. Even if they were smiling now, they might not actually be happy about their father marrying someone else so suddenly. He made a mental note to ask them about that, later.

“So, you got a best man, yet?”

“Uh, no, no.”

Seeing an opportunity, Schneider raised his arms out.

“Uh, what’s with the arms?” Victor looked around the room, confused.

It seemed obvious, but Schneider explained, anyway. “You don’t have a lot of friends in LA, so obviously, I’m your best man!” He could never turn down a chance to get involved, and being a best man would give him an _in_ with Victor and the wedding. “I’m gonna plan your bachelor party. Hashtag _Vic-turn it up_!” Plus, as an added bonus, he liked planning parties.

Victor looked unimpressed. “No, no, I don’t need any of that. Nicole’s friends are throwing her a little bachelorette thing, and I’m just gonna take Elena and Alex to dinner.”

Dinner with the kids was even _better_. That meant he could keep an eye on them, and make sure they were actually okay with everything that was happening. Since Penelope wasn’t going to be there (who would invite their ex wife to their bachelor party-dinner?) someone should be there to look out for them. “A _dad-chelor_ party! I could work with that. I’ll go get my cargo shorts and braided belt.”

He winked at Elena on his way out, who smiled back at him, and ran back upstairs.

He didn’t grab cargo shorts, but he did get changed and grab his satchel. He stuffed in a couple miniature bottles of liqueur and a travel-sized mouth wash. He didn’t even think twice about packing drinks for the dinner. This was the new normal, after all.

* * *

 

He didn’t have a lot of time to prepare anything cool for the dad-chelor dinner, but he was nothing if not creative. He had a (admittedly poorly designed) hat from the Vancouver Art Gallery that he had visited a long time ago, and that would have to do.

“As runner up for best man, I got you a little something for your dad-chelor party,” he said as they walked into the restaurant. He reached into the bag and grabbed the hat. “Bam!”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “V.A.G.?”

“Victor Alvarez _Guapísimo_!”

“Yeah, I’m not wearing a hat that says vag.”

Before Schneider could try to convince him otherwise, Elena snatched it from his hands. “I’ll wear it,” She flashed her father a smug smile.

They continued to the table, but Schneider was stopped by the sound of Lydia _cawing_ at him. She grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the bar. “Lydia, what are you doing here?”

“I need you to invite me to the party so I can spy on Victor! I think… I think he’s drinking again,” she explained.

Schneider felt his shoulders tense. “What? No, that’s crazy. He’s sober, he wouldn’t drink.” He wanted nothing more than to be out of this conversation. Victor clearly wasn’t drinking – he didn’t show any of the signs. But talking about sobriety in his current state hurt too much.

Yet Lydia didn’t let up. “No, I don’t think he’s sober anymore. When he drinks he’s impulsive and irrational, and that is why he is rushing into a marriage with dollar-store _Lupita_.”

Schneider glanced over at the table where the other three of the group had now settled. “Come on, Victor’s sober. Sure, he’s had his hard days. I know that better than anybody. But he’s committed, he has too much to lose.” He said that, knowing all too well that commitment didn’t always matter.

“I’m just worried about the children. I don’t want to see them hurt again.”

 _Ouch._   Schneider had thought a lot about what Lydia and particularly Penelope would think about his relapse. He had thought a lot less about the kids – perhaps because that was even more painful. Yeah, it would hurt a lot to see the two of them lose faith in him, as they certainly would, but the kids…

Much like Pen, Elena and Alex only knew him as sober. He might have been an odd presence in their lives, but he hoped to at least be a stable one. He tried so hard to be someone they _trusted_ , someone they could feel _safe_ around. Someone not like their own father. They had already seen addiction up close with Victor… he couldn’t put them through that again.

He loved them like a father, and he couldn’t disappoint them like one. He just couldn’t.

“ _Y por eso_ , I must watch his every move,” Lydia continued, bringing his attention back to the conversation.

He couldn’t argue with her about protecting the kids, so instead he tried to poke holes in her plan. “But what if he sneaks off to the bar?”

Lydia put one finger up, looking proud of herself. “I recruited a spy.” She reached over and tapped on the back of a man sitting at the bar. The man spun around, and Schneider realized it was Dr. B in costume.

“Oh, hi!” Dr. B took off the glasses, waving at Schneider.

“Wow, I barely recognized you, Dr. B.”

Dr. B shushed him. “Don’t say my name. Tonight, I’m undercover.” He put the glasses back on to emphasize his point.

Behind him, the bartender asked, “Another mudslide, Mr. Iglesias?”

“ _Si, Senor_. And keep ‘em coming.” He took off his hat, revealing a toupee that looked… less realistic than the rest of his ensemble.

Realizing Lydia wasn’t going to take no for an answer – and had clearly put a lot of effort into her plan, Schneider agreed to invite her to the dinner. He hoped Victor wouldn’t mind.

* * *

 

The dinner went well, and although he was a little _salado_ about not getting to be best man, Elena and Alex both seemed genuinely excited about the wedding. He had drank a lot at the restaurant, and he fell asleep almost as soon as he walked back into his apartment.

Despite his good mood, he had a restless night. He woke up several times with vague memories of nightmares, and eventually he gave up getting back to sleep entirely. The silence of the apartment, however, was too much to bear, and he found himself in a desperate search for something to occupy his time at 5 in the morning.

He found an advertisement for goat yoga at a park downtown, starting at 6:30. He quickly dressed himself, downed a liquid breakfast, and went on his way.

Goat yoga turned out to be a little too heavy on the goats, and less on the yoga. It also lasted for an hour and a half, which seemed a bit excessive. Afterwards he stuck around to pet some of the goats and chat up the yoga instructor, but quickly found himself craving a drink.

By the time he made it back to the apartment building it was a little after 8, and he knew the Alvarezes would be up and starting their days. Since he had skipped his morning coffee from Lydia, he figured the least he could do was stop by and say hey.

When he got to their door he automatically knocked a few times, and then laughed to himself. When was the last time he knocked on the _Alvarezes_ door? The brandy this morning must have been particularly good. He let himself in and saw Lydia and Penelope right away. “What up, fam?”

Neither of them responded, so he continued. “Beautiful day. Got up at 6, crushed a smoothie, went to goat yoga. Ironically, the instructor had a camel toe.”

The two women exchanged a glance, and Penelope said something to her mother that he couldn’t quite hear.

Finally, Lydia spoke. “Yoga, huh? Let me ask you a question. Did you do this move?”

Schneider watched as Lydia recreated one of the positions. He really hadn’t expected them to be so inquisitive about the yoga. “Yeah.”

“Did you do this move?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you do _this_ move?” She raised one hand up to her face like she was drinking something, and deep down he knew immediately what she was implying.

He started to panic.

Did Lydia know he started drinking, again? Did Penelope? And more importantly – _how_? How could they have possibly figured it out?

Then again, maybe this was just Lydia being Lydia. So, he played it cool. “What’s that? Thirsty Warrior?”

Penelope, however, was having none of that. She was much more straightforward. “Are you using again?” She made it over to him in just a few strides. “Booze, pills, sticky icky icky?”

So, they definitely knew. _Shit, shit, shit_. He had been _so_ careful. He had done everything he could to keep this from him. And it seemed to have worked. Until now.

Somewhere in his gut he knew the jig was up. He knew that he was going to have to own up to what he had done – but now was not that time. He couldn’t face it right now. He needed to think – and he needed to get out of this apartment.

So he lied, again. “What? Where is this coming from?”

“Victor things you slipped. Did you?”

 _Victor_ , of course. Going to that dinner was a huge mistake – of course the addict was going to recognize a relapse. That was why he was so confident that Victor _hadn’t_ slipped; he would have known it. But that was a two-way street, and apparently Victor had been paying attention.

“ _Oh my God_. I’m _fine_. Addicts always think everyone’s an addict. Just like Elena thinks everyone’s gay, and Lydia thinks everyone’s in love with her,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. And Lydia didn’t disappoint.

“Stop flirting with me and get to the point.”

Schneider smiled at her, and then looked back down at Penelope, hoping to see a different look in her eyes. He did not. She sighed, meeting his gaze with serious concern. “Schneider, you know we care about you…”

_Please don’t._

“…So I’m gonna ask you one more time.”

_Don’t._

“Are you drinking?”

It was one thing to lie to them by omission. It was one thing to lie to them about Avery. But lying directly to Penelope’s face, at a direct question asked only with care and concern… that was going to be a lot harder to stomach.

But it would hurt even more to come clean, after all this time. Penelope’s face was tense with worry, yes. But beyond that was another expression that he could just barely make out: hope. She didn’t _know_ , yet. She _suspected_. But the way her eyebrows knitted together told him that she wasn’t sure, and she was hoping to be wrong.

“Okay, the truth is I did think about having a drink when my dad was in town, _but I didn’t_ , and I promise you, I’m fine!” He knew he should stay longer and try to convince the both of them that he meant it, but that would be hard to do considering he was already tipsy from the morning’s drink. He was going to have to go upstairs and sober up a bit before he could reasonably talk to them again. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna change into something a little more comfortable.”

He closed the door behind him, silently scolding himself as he ran back upstairs.

* * *

 

It took everything he had to not drink again as soon as he got back. And apparently it took even more than that, because he very quickly found himself sitting on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom, clutching a bottle of vermouth. It was sweet and dry, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He wasn’t sure if anything was going to make him feel better at this point.

He knew it was only going to be so long before Penelope and Lydia were at his door, expecting him _sober_ ; expecting him to prove their earlier accusations wrong. But he wasn’t going to be able to do that. Best case scenario at this point was probably them finding him passed out in this bathroom. Worst case scenario… could be a lot worse.

They were never going to forgive him. They were going to leave him, just like Avery did. Just like many past girlfriends did. Just like his father did. Just like, well, everyone.

And if they were going to do that, what was the point of getting sober again, exactly? There wasn’t one. He had never been able to stay sober for himself – he _needed_ other people. He needed _them_ in particular. He could put down this bottle, he could throw out the rest, but it wasn’t going to last. It just wasn’t. And without his family to keep him in check, there wasn’t really a reason to try.

So he didn’t. He drank.

And then at some point, he heard women’s voices coming from his living room, and he knew just who it was.

 _Steady, now_. He stood up, leaving the vermouth on the counter. He looked at himself in the mirror and was shocked to see his own face staring back at him. He sure didn’t feel like himself.

“ _Ay_ , _Mami_. That’s too big to be a bong. I’m guessing.”

Schneider walked out, causing both Penelope and Lydia to yelp in surprise. “It’s actually a didgeridoo.” He grabbed the instrument, playing a few notes for emphasis. They both silently watched him, looking more than a little guilty about sneaking in. “And not _one_ lesson,” he finished, putting it back down.

Penelope loosened up a bit, flashing a fake smile his way. “We thought you were at the Farmers Market.”  It wasn’t a totally baseless thought. That’s what a self-possessed Schneider would be up to on a morning like this.

“Yeah, well, the figs were sub-par today, so I came home disappointed.” He crossed by them, walking to the other side of the room. He hoped to put some distance between them. “Now I’m even more disappointed to come home and find my best friend and her daughter sneaking into my apartment.”

“It is true. I have violated the bro code.”

Schneider was well aware how unfair all this was. How unfair _he_ was being. First of all, he had no right to be upset about the two of them wandering into his apartment, uninvited. But more than that – they had every right to be suspicious. They were _right_ , after all. They were right about everything.

“You know what? I don’t care.” Penelope waved her hands in the air. “Get mad at me all you want, okay? You’re hiding something, and I’m gonna find out what it is.”

It was true.

“Let me see if your pupils are dilated.”

They probably were.

Penelope quickly made her way to him, and he took a couple steps back, holding out his hand to block her path. “What? Stop! I told you, I’m not drinking.”

Lies, lies, lies.

“And I went through a really hard time where I was tempted to, so you’re not making things easier on me.”

 _Ouch_. That was harsh, pushing the blame back on her. She didn’t deserve that. But at this point he was all instinct – the addict in him was in full control, and he was just trying to survive.

Penelope was strong willed though, and was not ready to back down. He wondered why she was trying so hard. Surely he wasn’t worth all this effort. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I am! I’ve never lied to you. Other than once when I told you chartreuse was your color, when really it’s nobody’s color.”

Penelope looked exasperated. He hated to see her all riled up over him. “Look, I’m sensitive, okay? I’ve been through this before with Victor. By the time I confronted him, it was too late.”

“Well, I’m not Victor. I’ve always been there for this family!” That part he believed. He may have been drinking, but he wasn’t punching holes into walls or making anyone feel unsafe. He wasn’t threatening himself or anyone else. Maybe he lied to them – but he did it to protect _them_ , not himself.

Right?

He continued, “And the fact that _you_ , of all people, think I’m a liar makes me feel like crap.”

Penelope’s face told him everything. Maybe he had pushed it too far… but it worked. She took a step back, seemingly rethinking her words. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t need to be.

“You should be.”

_No…_

He thought there was no possible way he could feel worse about himself in that moment. He was wrong.

Lydia pulled a mostly empty bottle out from inside his yoga mat. “What is this?” She turned to him, holding it up.

It was over. All over.

“That’s not my yoga mat.”

She opened it up to reveal his name printed onto the surface.

Over, over, over.

He swallowed hard.

“ _Okay_. I screwed up.” It was the understatement of the year. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Penelope. He didn’t want to know what she was feeling, what she was thinking. He needed to get them out of here.

“We should get ahold of your sponsor.”

“You’re right.” He quickly went to grab his phone, pretending to send a quick text.

He knew what happened next. They get Nick over here and they wash their hands of him. He gets back from his first meeting, and Penelope tells him she just can’t trust him around her kids anymore. She’ll tell him she’s sorry – that this hurts her, too – but it’s for the best if he keeps his distance.

And then next thing he knows, their lease is up and their moving, and it starts to feel a lot like 2002, again. And that was not a good year.

He knew at this point that he was fucked, but he also knew that he couldn’t handle the rejection. He knew he was going to find himself all alone, but he couldn’t possibly sit there and listen to her tell him so. He had to be the one to do it.

“Ugh, I’m so ashamed. I’ll text Nick right now. I can’t believe I let this happen.” He made his way to Lydia and started to lead her across the apartment. “Thanks, guys. You probably saved my life by catching me before I hit bottom.” As they reached the door, he lied, “Okay, Nick’s on his way.”

Penelope stopped him in his tracks; she was no fool. “Good, because we’re not going anywhere until he gets here.” He hadn’t expected that, but he probably should have.

“Thank you, but you don’t have to do that.”

“No, we do.” Penelope crossed her arms, defiantly. “Is there more booze in this apartment?”

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“ _Yes_.” Okay, new plan. “There’s a bottle of vodka in the freezer. And Wax Ice-T is full of Long Island Iced Tea.”

As planned, both women nodded to one another, and left to go collect the alcohol that definitely wasn’t there. Or at least not in the places he told them. As soon as they were both out of sight, he took the opportunity to run out of there.

He didn’t know where he was going, and he didn’t know what he was going to do when he got there. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how Penelope’s voice seemed to shake as she spoke to him, once she knew for sure what had happened. She wasn’t angry, like she had been after the whole condo situation – but she was hurt. Once again, because of him.

Soon, the whole family would know, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe again.

He had been running on auto-pilot, and hadn’t been paying any attention to where he was going. When he shook himself out of his thoughts, he realized he had walked down to the corner liquor store. The flashing “OPEN” sign beckoned him in.

He clearly remembered following its call and entering the store. Everything that happened afterward he only _wished_ he couldn’t remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is very vaguely inspired by the song "Cotton" by the Mountain Goats, about heroin addiction.
> 
> "I wanna sing one for the cars  
> That are right now headed silent down the highway  
> And it's dark and there is nobody driving  
> And something has got to give"


	6. BFF Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding out about Schneider's relapse, Penelope recounts the last few weeks and realizes how much she had missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, how long has it been since the last chapter? You know what, don't answer that. This chapter is from Penelope's perspective, so hopefully you enjoy that. I don't write her all that often, so lemme know what you think!

"You know, you can learn Spanish. You can eat dinner with us. You can  _pretend_ you’re part of the family, but when it comes down to it you are still  _The Man_ , and we’re just your tenants!"

Penelope knew it was harsh, but the anger was burning up inside her chest, threatening to boil over at any second. She knew Schneider was naïve, but this was on a whole nother level. How could he do this to them? How could he put her family – _his_ family – in this situation?

Over the years Schneider had wormed his way into her family dynamic, but it didn’t happen without hesitation. In the first few moments of knowing him, she knew he was a privileged white guy with no clue how the rest of the world actually worked. It took a long time for her to realize he was a lot more than that, but now he was suddenly proving her right all over again.

 _This_ Schneider – the one kissing up to his father and bragging about gentrification – was exactly the man she had feared him to be all those years ago. The worst part was that if he had done this back then, she wouldn’t have really cared. Because she would have expected it. But she didn’t expect this.

He should have known better.

That’s what it came down to. He should have known what this would do to her family. What this would to do _her_. Didn’t he care about them? Was her family just another passing hobby for him? Just another avocation to temporarily fill the hole in heart as he propelled from addiction to addiction, obsession to obsession?

Even with his gelled hair and uncomfortable black suit, Penelope hadn’t quite seen the resemblance to his father until right now. Now it was _all_ she could see.

"You know what? Congratulations. You are your father's son. Get out." She turned away from him, covering her face so he wouldn’t see how hard she was struggling to keep herself from breaking down into tears. She knew if he stayed, and if they argued more, she _would_ cry. He had seen her cry plenty of times before, but this was different. Suddenly it was something she desperately wanted to hide.

“Penelope…”

As angry as she was, she hated the heartache in his voice as he said her name. Of course he wouldn’t just _leave._ Who did she think she was dealing with? She could just imagine the puppy-dog look he must have plastered on his face right now. It was the look of a man with some serious abandonment issues – but that wasn’t her problem right now. And it wasn’t going to work. “No, I mean it, please. Get out.”

She didn’t watch him leave, but she could hear his slow footsteps walking away, and then the sound of the door clicking shut. Finally, she could let go of the breath she was holding. With him out of the room, she could focus on the problem in front of her.

Because that was what she did. She was Penelope Francisca Del Carmen Riera Inclán Ruiz Maribona Del Alvarez. Badass soldier. Supermom. Fixer. And she was going to fix this.

_¿Pero cómo?_

Penelope felt the world around her drain of color; she felt the pit in her chest grow deeper. She was going to lose her _home_. Her family’s home. She was going to have to find a new place to live, and who knows where that would be? How far away from Dr. B’s office? How far from the kids’ school? How far from Schneider?

_How far from Schneider?_

Did it even really matter? Why would she care? She had become so accustomed to his constant presence that life anywhere else outside of this building would seem quiet and – she hated to say it – empty. But this was _his_ fault. It was _because of him_ that she was going to have to leave.

She shook her head as if that was going to erase the crazy etch-a-sketch drawing that was her mind right now. This was all too much. She had to get her shit in order and determine exactly how screwed she was.

Luckily she knew a pretty cute accountant who would be more than willing to help her out.

* * *

 

Knocking on Schneider’s door had never felt like such an intrusion. She had come to his door at all hours of the night seeking a shoulder to cry on or an ear to vent to. This time was different, though. She didn’t need help, she needed to apologize.

She had said some hurtful things in the heat of the moment; she had _thought_ some hurtful things.

But in her defense, she was taking in a lot of bad news at the moment. Yet with time, perspective, and some mostly good news from her boyfriend, her head cleared a bit and she was able to rethink some things.

“Hey,” She offered a soft smile as he opened the door. It was her way of waving a little white flag of surrender. If this was anyone else, she would be worried right now that he wouldn’t even let her through the door after all that had happened. But this wasn’t anyone else.

“Hey, come on in.” He had this hollow, defeated look in his eye that looked decidedly _not_ Schneider. She knew that was her fault. She hadn’t seen him look this sad since she yelled at him last year when she was off her meds.

Now _that_ was some awful shit. She tried not to think about the terrible things she had said as she entered the apartment. She recalled how quick he was to forgive her for everything. He never even argued with her – he never defended himself. He just took her words, quietly, and let her pretend like she had never said them.

She was grateful for that; grateful she didn’t have to explain herself beyond the simple, ‘I’m sorry, that was wrong.’ Grateful they were able to go right back to their normal, bickering, offbeat selves.

This, however, was different. She realized now that their relationship deserved a little more effort than that. A lot more, even.

"Sorry I kicked you out before. But it's nice to know that you are actually capable of leaving my apartment when asked."

It was meant to be a joke, but Schneider didn’t laugh. "I’m so sorry, Pen, I don't know what to say."

Sure, he had things to be sorry for. Selling the building _was_ going to screw them over – but that was his decision to make. Her talk with Mateo made her realize that Schneider had given up a lot more than she knew, already. How much potential money had he missed out on by not raising their rent? Was it the same for all the tenants? All the new tenants? Had he even considered that before his father got involved? Probably not.

She couldn’t ask him to give up on opportunities for them; not only the financial ones, but the familial ones as well. This wasn’t just about the money, after all. She knew deep down that wasn’t important to him – he had more than enough already. No, this was about his father. This was about his family.

"No, I’m sorry. You caught me off guard. This is your building. And it is a good business decision. And Hell, if the shoe was on the other foot I'd’ve kicked your ass out, too."

No, she wouldn’t. But it finally got him to smile, even if just slightly.

“Thanks.”

She could see the wheels in his head turning as he sat down on the couch. She could tell he still didn’t feel good about it, and she understood. She settled down beside him, letting her body press up against his.

"I can’t expect you to push your father away because of us. I get it, family is everything. No one knows that more than me.” She thought about her own father, and how lucky she was to have him. The same with her mother. She had a lot of blessings in her life, and her family was most of them. She couldn’t imagine going through life without them. Even when they had their differences, even when they argued, Penelope always knew she was loved. Not everyone had that growing up – not everyone had that now.

Schneider certainly didn’t. If this condo deal was his chance to mend his relationship with his father, if it was his chance to feel even a _sliver_ of the love and affection that she had been graced with her whole life, she couldn’t be the one to take that away from him.

“The Alvarezes are gonna be okay. _And so are we_.”

The smile on his lips still didn’t reach his eyes. There was something going on in his face that she just couldn’t read. There was still some doubt, some regret, some grief still lingering beneath the surface.

He should have been relieved that she was giving him the ‘O.K.’ to follow his father into business. But his mumbled “great,” didn’t scream _relieved_.  This was about more than the building. This was about _them_.

She thought back to earlier, when she was kicking him out. How wrong she had been. This man sitting beside her was _not_ his father. He was one of the kindest, warmest people she knew. He was always willing to listen, always willing to forgive. All he wanted in this world was to be loved, and it took him _so long_ to get there. But he finally did.

With or without his father’s respect, he was already loved, already wanted. He had them, and they loved him; _she_ loved him. And damn it, he deserved to know that.

She wanted to tell him that he _was_ family. It didn’t matter if he knew Spanish or not. It wasn’t just because of all the dinners or family outings he came to. It wasn’t because he took her son to baseball or spent time with her mother. It wasn’t because he ran transpo for her daughter’s _quinces_ or didn’t raise the rent on them in 17 years. It wasn’t because he was _always_ there for them, whenever they needed him to be (or didn’t need him to be.)

He was family because he loved them unconditionally – you could literally _feel_ it radiating off of him. That was what family is all about. The least they could do was make sure he felt it, back. The least she could do was make sure he knew.

But maybe that was a little much to say. Maybe that was coming off just a little too strong. But he still needed to know that he didn’t have to change for them; he didn’t need to give up opportunities for them. He certainly didn’t need to risk his relationship with his father for them. Because they were going to love him, not matter what.

So instead of all that, she said, "but I gotta say… I don't think you should try so hard to become the man your father wants you to be. Because I like the man you are just fine."

 _Por fin_ , that was what he needed to hear. He pulled her into a tight embrace, and she let herself sink into his chest. It had been a stressful day – and the future wasn’t looking particularly _calmo_ , either – but she was relieved to have her best buddy back.

And when Schneider surprised both her and his father by not only deciding against the sale of the building, but by kicking Lawrence out of it completely, she couldn’t help but literally jump for joy. If she hadn’t been so ecstatic about the news, she may have noticed how odd he was acting. She may have found it strange that he didn’t dance along with her, or follow her downstairs to the apartment he loved so very much.

But in that moment she was so happy, so relieved, that she didn’t notice anything. She certainly didn’t notice that his father’s gift was sitting on the table behind them, as if the bottle itself was waiting for her to leave the room.

She didn’t notice any of that now, but she would think about it a lot later.

* * *

 

Penelope knew she should probably be angry at Schneider for lying to her, and to everyone, for who knows how long. He lied right to her _face_. He chastised her for not trusting him, and then made her feel awful for accusing him – when she was right, all along.

If anyone else had done that, she’d be pissed. And maybe she was, just a little. Okay, no, she was pissed.

But the worry getting heavier and heavier in her chest far outweighed the anger.

She was hyper aware of the phone in her pocket as she waited for a call from someone – from anyone – who had seen Schneider since he made his great escape. Deep down she knew she he was a grown-ass adult, and not a child that ran away from home. But he wasn’t himself right now, and who knew what kind of trouble he could get into.

She remembered all those nights where she and Victor would argue because he was drunk or high and he would storm off, slamming the front door behind him. Sometimes she’d call the cops because he took the car and she knew he might hurt someone. Other times he’d walk, and she’d have to just silently agonize about him. She’d wait up all night, praying he’d make it back home safe and not even more messed up than before. Those were some of the longest nights of her life – and she’d gone to _war_.

She thought she had left those nights behind when she divorced Victor. She thought she was done sitting nervously by the phone, praying to a God she wasn’t even sure she believed in that a man she cared about would make it home safely. Praying that he wouldn’t end up lying in an alleyway somewhere, or worse.

This time it wasn’t her husband; it wasn’t the father of her children. But it was _Schneider_ , and the distress felt just the same. It wasn’t supposed to, but it did. And it was eating away at her, even during this happy moment.

She wanted to celebrate Elena passing her driving test, but her mind just wouldn’t focus. She kept thinking about the last few weeks – all the times she had seen Schneider while he was drinking and hadn’t even realized it.

How could she have been so blind? She had experience with addicts – she should have been able to see it coming.

Had he been drinking that night after his father’s visit, when he ate dinner with them? When he teased Elena about all the sconces she had unscrewed? When he danced with her _Mami_ as they cleared the table?

And what about that next day, when he inexplicably cooked them all waffles in the morning, and then pork for dinner? Was he under the influence for all of that, too? He had seemed so… normal for all of it. He seemed like his happy self. But the secret must have been eating him up inside. He must have felt awful.

And then there was Avery.

When she called his girlfriend to ask about his whereabouts, she discovered they had already broken up. He had started drinking again, and she just couldn’t handle it. “I swear, Penelope, he told me you knew. I would have told you if I thought-“

“No, it’s okay, Avery. It’s not your fault.”

He had really lied to everyone.

After talking with Avery she _knew_ he was drunk that night she helped him cook dinner for her. It had been such a good night. They had felt so… natural together. If it wasn’t _Schneider_ of all people, she would have called it romantic. But, again, Schneider. It was totally platonic, but still… nice.

And now that was ruined. Because he really hadn’t been himself. He hadn’t been himself for weeks, and she hadn’t noticed.

Not much of a best friend.

“ _No te preocupes. Èl estará bien, mija_.” Her mother startled her out of her thoughts by squeezing her shoulder as she passed by, walking into the kitchen. She whispered it quietly, but Elena must have heard something, judging by the look on her face.

Penelope chewed on her bottom lip as she went to sit beside her daughter, who was still slightly holding her chest after getting accidently elbowed by Alex. Even with all this drama, there were still happy occasions to attend to. Her little girl was _driving_ now, and even Schneider would want to make sure she celebrated that. “I’m really proud of you, Elena. Not that I doubted you - I _knew_ you would ace that test.”

Elena’s features softened, and she looked like her normal self, again. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without Dr. B. And Alex, actually.” She giggled softly. “I hope his shirt’s okay.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “That boy and his clothes, _lo juro_.”

A gentle silence settled between them, and eventually Elena took the opportunity to ask, “Is everything okay, Mom? You seem… off. No offense.”

Penelope chuckled. Of course Elena would notice how off she had been. She knew she was going to have to tell both the kids what happened eventually, but she hadn’t figured out what she was going to say just yet. She didn’t know how they would respond - especially Elena. Alex didn’t remember much about the bad days with Victor, but her oldest daughter did. Penelope didn’t want Elena to immediately associate those days with Schneider, because she really didn’t know what drunk Schneider was like.

She felt a pang of guilt in her gut, because she _should have_ known what he was like. He was her best friend, and she had come to realize that in all these years, she had asked very little about his past. Maybe it was because he offered up information without prompting most of the time, but she had never dug any deeper. She should have _wanted_ to know more about him, and about what he went through. She had certainly told him a lot about her own past.

When it came down to it, she had taken his sobriety for granted. He had been sober for so long that she couldn’t really imagine him any other way. She couldn’t picture him stumbling around, slurring his words, or throwing things in frustration. She had experienced life with an alcoholic, and Schneider just didn’t seem to fit the bill.

But that was her own mistake. Addiction is a disease, and it can affect anyone. Even a tall, goofy man-child like him.

 She looked down at her daughter, who was expecting an answer she was not ready to give. “It’s nothing, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it after your celebratory dinner, okay?”

Elena stiffened up, turning toward Penelope. Her daughter was no _tonta_. “Okay, well now I know it’s _not_ just nothing. Seriously, what’s going on?”

Penelope pursed her lips and glanced over to her mother in the kitchen. Lydia was at the counter, clearly listening to their conversation. Penelope motioned for her mother to join them. “Alright, _mija_. I don’t want you to worry, but… It’s about Schneider.”

Elena’s eyes widened. “Schneider? Is he okay? What happened? Is he hurt, or-?”

“No he’s not hurt! It’s just… he relapsed, sweetheart.”

“Oh…” Realization dawned on her. She sat back in her seat. “Oh, Schneider… What happened?”

“We don’t know. We don’t even know where he is right now – we just found out, ourselves. But he’ll be back soon, and when he is we’re going to figure all of this out, I promise.” Penelope wrapped her arm around Elena, who leaned into it, gratefully.

Lydia stood behind them on the other side of the couch, and rested a hand on each of them. For just a few seconds, Penelope felt a little bit better about the whole situation.

Suddenly Penelope’s phone began to ring from her pocket. Hoping it was one of Schneider’s friends she had called earlier, she rushed to answer it. “Hello?”

“Mom?”

 _Alex?_ “What’s up, _Papito_?”

“Uh, could you come down to the laundry room?”

She rolled her eyes. “Alex, you have to learn to do your own laundry without me or your _Abuelita_ helping you, eventually.”

“ _Mami,_ it’s not about _laundry_.” The nervous emphasis in her son’s voice suddenly filled her with dread. He didn’t sound quite like himself. “Would you just come down here?”

“What’s wrong, baby?” Penelope was already standing up and ready to rush downstairs. Part of her already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from him first. Lydia and Elena stared at her, concerned.

“It’s Schneider. He’s, uh…” Alex didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to.

“I’ll be right down.”

* * *

 

Penelope's heart skipped a beat when she saw Alex standing in the hallway outside the laundry room. His arms were folded in, and he looked so small in the moment she almost forgot he was a full-blown teenager at this point. No matter how old – or how tall – he got, he was still her baby.

As soon as he saw her turn the corner, he ran to meet her. She pulled him into a hug, squeezing as tight as she could. Then she pulled away, keeping her hands on either side of his face. She looked him up and down. " _Papito_ , my baby, are you alright?"

" _Mom_. I'm fine." He pulled away from her grasp. "It's Schneider. I think he, uh..."

"I know. He's drinking." She snuck a glance through the glass pane on the door, but couldn't see Schneider through it. "Did he, um... What's he like in there?" When she and her mother had confronted him in his apartment, he didn’t _seem_ that off. He must have been really good at hiding it, because she honestly could not tell when he must have started drinking again. But who knows what had happened since she last saw him.

Alex shrugged, uncomfortably. "I don’t know. I think... I think it's bad. He's really… out of it."

Alex never should have had to see him like that. It was too much on a kid. But then that thought circled back to something else she had to ask him, even though she didn’t want to. “He didn't… he didn’t hurt you, did he?" Penelope practically whispered the words.

Alex shook his head. "He's still Schneider, _Mami_."

She nodded, letting out a little sigh of relief. "Why don't you go back upstairs with your _Abuelita_ and Elena, okay? I'll be up there soon."

"With Schneider?" Alex asked, expectantly. "I mean, he's got to, like, stay with us or something until he's sobered up, right? He can't be by himself right now."

Penelope felt a grateful smile creep onto her face. She had done a good job with this one. "Of course, _Papito_. With Schneider. Now go on up." She watched him leave, apprehensively. Taking a few deep breaths, she waited a few moments so she could gather her thoughts before entering the laundry room.

"Schneider?" She called quietly into the room, closing the door gently behind her. She saw some crumpled jeans in a pile on the floor, but otherwise didn't see any sign of another person in the room.

That is, until she heard a groan coming from behind the counter. She walked around to the other side, where she saw him. In some respects it was so obviously him - her landlord, he neighbor, her best friend. _Schneider._  

But in others, he was almost unrecognizable. His hair was a mess, his glasses were lying beside him on the floor. The jeans on the ground were clearly his, since he wasn't wearing any. His face was pale, his eyes were lost. Even as he turned to face her, with a sloppy grin and a raised brow, it didn’t _quite_ look like him. “Hey, girl…” He let out an unnaturally hollow guffaw, raising a half-emptied bottle of whiskey up. “Came to join me, eh?”

Any anger still lingering in her system up to that point dissipated immediately. She was reminded of her first time meeting Schneider: his bleached hair, his obnoxious flirting. She had wanted nothing to do with him, especially when she found him a few days later passed out behind the building, hungover and miserable.

And even though she barely knew him at the time, and he was already proving to be the _worst_ landlord in all of Echo Park, the nurse in her took over and she helped him up to his apartment. She settled him down on his couch, got him a glass of water, and promptly left – her duty fulfilled. He was so out of it he probably didn’t remember any of it – and she re-enlisted soon after, so she never got the chance to ask about it.

This was before Victor’s issues, of course, so in her eyes Schneider was just some rich asshole who partied way too hard. And yeah, maybe she got 2 of the 3 correct, but this time around she knew there was more to the story.

Once again, she knew she was going to have to pick him off the ground and help him upstairs. But things were different this time, and she wasn’t leaving him alone after that.

"Oh, Schneider,” She knelt beside him so she could look at him at eye level. “What did you do to yourself?"

Schneider scoffed. “I'm _fine_ , Pen,” He slurred, refusing to meet her eyes. “Just don't... don't o’erreact..."

"Do I look like I'm overreacting?"

He narrowed his eyes, no doubt trying to merge two Penelope’s into one clear image. "You look... sad."

Penelope huffed, settling down beside him. Her left arm pressed up against his right. The touch of her skin against his seemed to wake him up a bit, and his eyes finally focused on her. "Of course I'm sad, dummy. I'm sad for _you_."

“You shou-n’t be.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” There was no answer, and she knew better than to keep digging. He was way too intoxicated right now to have a real conversation. She needed to sober him up before she could get any information out of him – or scold him, for that matter. “Okay, you don’t have to talk to me. But we need to get you out of here, alright?”

“I’m good here, thanks.” He raised the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back to drink.

“Schneider, no!” She reached for the bottle, and managed to grab ahold of the neck, but he yanked it back. “ _Schnedier_ , I’m serious. Give it to me.”

He shook his head. His knuckles were turning white from how hard he was holding onto the bottle. “You don’t unner-sand, Pen. You can’t unner-sand… how much I _need_ this.”

Penelope sighed. “You _don’t_ need it. You are _stronger_ than the drink. You’re stronger than you think.”

“That rhymed.”

“I’m not kidding around.”

“Maybe I don’t _want_ to be strong anymore.” His voice was a lot louder this time, and there was a fire behind it. He leaned away from her, putting some distance between them. “ _Maybe_ I wanna be a little weak, and give in. If I want to screw up my life, that’s _my_ decision, okay? So please… just go back upstairs and leave me here to screw it up.”

 _Alright, that’s it._ If he was going to keep pushing her away, she was going to have to pull out the big guns. There was a zero percent chance she was leaving this laundry room without him.

“You know what, Schneider? It’s _not_ just your decision.” His brow furrowed, but she didn’t give him a chance at rebuttal. She moved in front of him so he _had_ to look at her while she spoke. “It hasn’t been your decision since you became part of this family. Don’t you think sometimes I’d like to throw all caution to the wind and quit my job, drive up to Malibu and party ‘till the sun comes up? Do you think I want to be strong and responsible all the time? _Because I don’t_. Sometimes I want to give in, but I can’t because I’m a _mother_. I’ve got two kids to think about, and they mean the world to me. They _are_ my world. And I know you care about them too.”

“Of course I do,” he whispered hoarsely, without hesitation.

“And yet Alex came down here and found you like… like _this_. Drunk and a mess and probably pretty scary to a fourteen-year-old.” She could see his grip on the bottle loosening as she spoke, and she knew she was getting to him. “You want Alex to feel safe around you, right? You want me to feel that they’re both safe with you, right?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Good. Because the last time someone made them feel unsafe, I divorced him. I didn’t want to, but I _had_ to. Because back then, the drinking and the pills were more important to him. They were _everything_. He thought he needed them, too. So, if you’re _sure_ that this is what you want… if you’re _sure_ that you want to give in… and you’re _sure_ that you need that bottle… then it’s yours. I will walk out of here, and I’ll go back upstairs to the rest of the family. _Or_ … you can hand over the bottle, and come with me. And we can figure this out together.”

There was a long silence, and she could see a few stray tears fall from his eyes. After a few moments of mulling over her words, he handed her the bottle.

 _Gracias Dios_. She took the bottle from his hands, placing it above them on the counter. She leaned over and pressed a kiss against his forehead. His skin was warm and growing redder by the minute. She wiped a tear from his eye, and she could see the tension leaving his shoulders. “Good. Now, let’s get you back upstairs, okay? You can sober up in our apartment.”

She went to stand but he grabbed her arm, stopping her. “No… I- I can’t go up there…”

“Yes you can.”

“Please, Pen… I can’t face ‘em like this…”

She frowned, running her fingers through his hair. “You’ve seen me at my worst, haven’t you? Did you hate me after that? Did you think less of me?”

“Of course not, but-“

“Then they’ll feel the same way about you. Come on, stand up.”

She helped him to his feet, wrapping his arm around her neck so she could help him to the elevators.

She knew there would be time for yelling later. There would be a time to express how angry she was, how disappointed. But for right now, he was okay. Everyone was okay. And that was enough. It was enough to know that he _wanted_ help. That he was accepting her help.

That he was going to get better.

Because he was. She was going to make sure of it.


End file.
